


Guarded Vows

by HaloHalo



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 70,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22703581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HaloHalo/pseuds/HaloHalo
Summary: Prince Hongjoong and his Royal Guardian Seonghwa are not friends. Seonghwa has promised his life to protect the Prince so he will endure anything. But Prince Hongjoong doesn't make it easy. Now with preparations for a royal wedding underway, the Prince is making Seonghwa's job even more difficult.
Relationships: Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa
Comments: 147
Kudos: 380





	1. Chapter 1

“My Prince! You can’t just disappear!” Park Seonghwa said, careful to keep his voice even and frustration free though he wanted to throttle his spirited leader.

“And you can’t tell me what to do!” Prince Kim Hongjoong replied, tossing a smirk over his shoulder as he sprinted along the winding path away from the palace garden.

As a prince of two and twenty years, he was supposed to be studying the history and politics of their great country, not slipping out of class to climb onto the rooftop, kicking up a shingle that almost maimed poor Master Choi, the elderly palace scholar.

_“Prince Hongjoong! What would your ancestors say?!” Master Choi bellowed._

_“Nothing! King Hyojong was busy fighting the Russians away from the North!” Prince Hongjoong shouted._

_“King Hyojong died before he got the chance!” Master Choi’s words went the way of the wind, as the Prince dove into a series of flips before launching himself towards the sprawling branches of an oak tree._

“Maybe not, but I am sworn to protect you! What if you had fallen?” Seonghwa pleaded, following the Prince.

“But I didn’t!” The Prince countered. “And I’m not some fragile teacup to keep in a box on a shelf.”

“But you’re a Prince! The Crown Prince! And it’s my duty to keep you safe. So please don’t disappear from me.”

Prince Hongjoong stopped abruptly. He peered up at Seonghwa with narrowed eyes and, in a mocking tone, said, “this is not behaviour befitting a prince, let alone the Crown Prince. It’s past time for Prince Hongjoong to start taking his duties seriously. He needs to get married and settled down.” He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on his hips. “I know what they say about me, the teachers, the ministers, my mother.” His face fell. “And I know all about duty. It’s my entire life. I have no life of my own.”

Seonghwa stared at the angry little prince. While they were both bound to duty, his, at least, had been a choice. He’d always wanted this life, trained and worked and applied to be a member of the Royal Guard. Three years ago, on the Seventh of November, he was selected to be Prince Hongjoong’s Royal Guardian and it was the happiest day he had ever known. But the Prince hadn’t chosen to be born a prince. It was a burden placed on him from birth. So while he may have been swaddled in the finest silks and eaten more meat than any commoner, his life was not his own. He belonged to the people.

“Ugh, what do you even care.” Prince Hongjoong spun on his heel and stomped towards the palace wing that contained the royal family’s residences. “You’re paid very well for your duty,” he added.

But of course Seonghwa cared. He’d promised his life for Prince Hongjoong’s life. If that wasn’t care…

“Then let me perform my duty. That is all I ask,” Seonghwa insisted, following the Prince from the harsh sunlight of the courtyard, into the cool corridor that led to his private chambers. His own small room was attached to the Prince’s. It was his honour as Royal Guardian. The vow of Royal Guardianship required leaving his family, friends, the prospect of marriage, all for the safety and protection of this bright, temperamental young man, who would ensure the peaceful future of the kingdom.

“You’re doing well.” The Prince gestured down his body, which was clad in a black hanbok with gold embroidery. “I’m still here. And in one piece,” he said before he turned and began skipping down the hall.

Seonghwa was not pacified. “Stop running away from me!” he hissed.

“What’s this?” A voice echoed from a corner where another corridor led east to the Queen’s private chambers. “Is that any way to speak to the Crown Prince?! Such impudence in this generation.” Minister Kang of the Royal Council, closest advisor to the Queen, sucked his teeth, glaring at Seonghwa as if he were a mere stone that had dared to trouble the Prince’s feet. “Remember your place!”

“You are speaking to my Royal Guardian,” Prince Hongjoong snapped, “as though his honour does not surpass your own. None of you in the Council have sworn your lives for me or my mother, so remember _your_ place.”

Seonghwa’s eyes widened at the Prince’s words and he felt his cheeks flush with warmth.

Minister Kang bristled. “Of course, dear Prince.” His voice was syrupy but his eyes were hawkish and trained on Seonghwa.

“Come on,” Prince Hongjoong wrapped slender fingers around Seonghwa’s wrist, gently squeezing the pulse point beneath the slate grey fabric of his sleeve. “You have to keep up,” he said, pulling Seonghwa behind him to his personal chambers.

Minister Kang was still watching when they slipped behind the door.

********

As expected the Prince was summoned to the Queen’s chambers that evening. Seonghwa walked him through the long, white corridors flanked with carved wood and waited outside the entrance. The Queen’s Royal Guardian was there. He was a much bigger man and older than Seonghwa by at least twenty years. Yet they were both Royal Guardians, the highest post attainable in the Royal Guard. Seonghwa may not have been as experienced, but he was quick and clever, fluent in four different fighting styles. He’d spent his entire life training to serve the Prince. Though as skilled as he was, it was expected that an older, more experienced, Royal Guard would win the Prince’s favour. So when Prince Hongjoong selected Seonghwa, the youngest applicant, the palace exploded with gossip and rumours.

_A foolish choice. Picked more for that pretty face than his ability to protect the prince. More like a Royal Courtesan than a Royal Guardian._

The Prince didn’t care what people said about them. He even taunted Seonghwa with the latest rumour from time to time. But Seonghwa knew that rumours could harm. And he would not allow himself to be the cause of any harm to Prince Hongjoong. As for the Queen, she often spoke to her son privately. Seonghwa knew little of the topics, other than vague bits the Prince confided in him when his mood was foul. The Queen had accepted the Prince’s choice of Royal Guardian without interference. Perhaps acknowledging that it was the only choice he would get to make. Seonghwa figured that was why the Prince would not tolerate anyone who disparaged him. Selecting Seonghwa was his first and only independent decision.

He wouldn’t even get to choose his wife, not if the Queen had her way, which she most certainly would. A royal marriage was about strategy. The entire palace knew that the time was coming for the Prince to be wed. It was also widely known that the Prince was unenthusiastic about being matched with a bride. Despite his protests, the Queen would soon make her selection and the Prince’s small window of youth would close. It would be painted over with preparations for the throne, with politics, and the pressure to further the family line. This was perhaps the greatest pressure of them all.

Prince Hongjoong was only ten years old when he transitioned from second son of the King to Crown Prince of the Queen. The sudden news of his father’s and brother’s deaths had plunged the country deep into mourning. No one more than the Queen, who from that day forward, kept her living son locked up in the palace where he would always be protected. Prince Hongjoong became the people’s treasure. And Seonghwa couldn’t think of a more meaningful aspiration than to dedicate his life to being the Prince’s protector.

Seonghwa was also ten years old when the King and Crown Prince were killed while boating in the East Sea. His family had traveled to the capital to observe mourning days. He’d been in the audience when Queen Hyori and Prince Hongjoong appeared before the people. There had been rows of Royal Guard arranged around the pavilion, still the Prince had seemed so small and unprotected. He still remembered the Prince’s tiny, solemn face and how his own heart ached for the boy.

That was the day Seonghwa told his parents he wanted to join the Royal Guard. It was a big aspiration for someone so young, but he had already been training in fist methods and stick styles. His aunt was one of the most superior archers from their region and she’d agreed to start teaching when Seonghwa was strong enough to string his own bow. He memorised the guard’s precepts and studied their history. He developed lean muscle and fast reflexes, which allowed him to specialise in stealth techniques. And though high places scared him, he learned to scale walls and rooftops, run steep mountain trails and sleep in trees.

Seonghwa applied and entered the Royal Guard at sixteen and, in just three years, when it came time for Prince Hongjoong to select his Royal Guardian, the warrior who would stay by his side for life, he was first in line to put his name on the selection list. He never thought the Prince would choose him, not with so many more experienced warriors on the list. But it was his dream and a rare opportunity.

When the doors to the Queen’s chambers opened, Prince Hongjoong stepped out with a sweet smile and gracious wave at his mother. But his smile faded as soon as they turned and walked away. Seonghwa could sense his anger without a single word being said. And when the Prince was angry, he didn’t want anyone around. It was Seonghwa’s duty, by royal decree, to stay by the Prince’s side. So when they returned to his chambers and the Prince dismissed him, they both knew Seonghwa would not leave.

He remained in the main room while the Prince sequestered himself in the bedroom, refusing offers of tea and sweets. Seonghwa passed the time with a book of poems. He was careful not to let his mind drift too far, though it was likely that the Prince had already cried himself to sleep.

********

As a Royal Guardian, Seonghwa was rarely off duty. He was permitted to request leave to visit his family or for specialised training, but only if it suited the Prince’s schedule. This was not a hardship because the Prince rarely left the palace or the royal lands nearby. His father had been the one to take the princes hunting and boating and on short tours of town and country. Excursions stopped once he became sole heir to the throne and his mother forbid him from travelling independently, in his princely role or just for pleasure. There were two additional Royal Guards assigned to the Prince. Unlike Seonghwa, they worked in shifts and returned to their families often. This gave Seonghwa time to eat, sleep, and train. Though he could be called upon by the Prince at any time, it was more likely that the Prince dismissed him whenever he was simply not wanted. The Prince made no secret of his distaste for being followed everywhere he goes.

Since the Prince had shut himself in his bedroom and the night guard, Mingi, had arrived, Seonghwa visited the training hall for some additional sword practice before ordering a second round of dinner, to be delivered to his room. He ate, tidied the room a bit, and was about to settle on his bed with more poetry, when he decided to make one more check before changing his clothes. The Prince was in such a despairing mood, hidden away in his bedchambers, that Seonghwa didn’t know if he’d even eaten. So he returned to the front chamber, where Mingi was on post, to inquire.

“How is he? Did he eat?” Seonghwa asked.

“He didn’t order food but I’d say he’s well," Mingi said with a sloppy grin and a poorly attempted wink.

Confusion clouded Seonghwa’s eyes. He wondered what had changed. “Have you seen him?

“I did,” Mingi nodded.

“And…” Seonghwa prompted, holding back an exasperated sigh.

“He ordered his favourite courtesan. They’ve been in there for over an hour.” Mingi grinned.

Seonghwa frowned. His eyes lingered on the bedroom door. He knew exactly who Mingi meant, the palace pretty boy who made all the ladies blush and had intentions for the Prince that Seonghwa did not trust. Actually, there were very few people he trusted with the Prince, besides sworn members of the Royal Guard and the Queen herself. Courtesans were sly, known to use their beauty to gain influence. The Prince had been increasingly calling upon this particular courtesan. Seonghwa shuddered inside. The thought of a palace courtesan having such access to the Prince made him feel uneasy.

“And you searched him?” Seonghwa asked, glaring at Mingi.

The lanky night guard let out an unsure laugh. “Searched? For weapons?”

“Yes for weapons,” Seonghwa insisted. “You know the protocol.”

Mingi shrugged. “He’s here a few times a week and lives in the palace so…”

“So you thought it was acceptable to put the Prince at risk because he’s a… somewhat… frequent…guest?” The words tasted bitter as they came from his mouth.

“What risk? He’s not hiding knives in his hanbok, probably just a big chile,” Mingi joked.

“Watch your speech,” Seonghwa chastised.

Mingi was an excellent guard but with a tendency towards impudence. He knew better than to speak of the Prince in a low manner. While such speech was something other guards tolerated amongst themselves, Seonghwa would not entertain anything besides the highest respect for the Prince.

The door to the Prince’s room slid open and a young man, Yeosang, with a finely sculpted face and serpentine eyes exited, wearing a pale peach robe barely tied at the waist, leaving sharp collarbones and a swath of his chest uncovered. His hair was disheveled and he lazily patted his mouth with the back of his hand before bowing in greeting to the guards.

Seonghwa’s gaze moved past him to the visible sliver of Prince Hongjoong's bedroom. The Prince, clad in only a thin lower undergarment, was pouring himself a drink. Seonghwa felt his chest tighten.

Stupid Mingi! There were protocols to follow and all visitors were to be reported to him. Was he even making accurate reports? Perhaps these visits were more frequent than he even knew.

The door slid shut again and Yeosang passed between the two guards, staring seductively at Seonghwa as he went, letting his silky robe sleeve brush against Seonghwa’s shirt. But Seonghwa was unaffected, his face a calm mask. His work required him to be an expert in concealing his thoughts and so he allowed Yeosang no space in his mind, instead focusing his eyes on a landscape painting behind Mingi.

Mingi closed the chamber entrance behind the courtesan and apologised to Seonghwa for his errors.

“I expect that since you are aware of the protocols, you will use them going forward. I want a detailed activity report in the morning _before_ you leave. Goodnight,” Seonghwa ordered.

Then he returned to his room, where he was no longer in the mood for poetry.

********

The next morning was sunny and clear, albeit colder than the day before. It was early autumn and the Prince’s birthday was near. Usually this would put him in an exceptional mood, he enjoyed planning his birthday festivities, but there was still something distant in his demeanour. He was perfectly gracious in front of others, but Seonghwa knew the Prince well enough to detect even the most minor dips in his mood.

It was nearly lunch when the Prince asked Seonghwa to accompany him on a walk through the royal grounds outside the palace walls. The chicken ginseng stew the royal kitchen was preparing would have to wait. Seonghwa was hungry, but a walk outside the palace was the Prince’s favourite activity, so he hoped it would help lift his spirits.

They walked in silence along the path, away from the palace, down a grassy hill, through a small grove of hibiscus shrubs and across a green field until it ended abruptly in a cliffside. They came to this place often to enjoy the beautiful view of the rolling countryside. Today the Prince wore white and had plucked a blossom from a branch, which he twirled it between his finger and thumb. The deep to light pink shades of the flower appeared vibrant against the white backdrop of his clothes. Seonghwa wore black with a sword hilted on his back. A stark contrast to the soft Prince.

“Remember the first time we came here?” Prince Hongjoong asked, as they walked along the cliff’s edge.

“Yes, my Prince.” Seonghwa nodded.

The Prince smiled. “I asked you to spar, thinking you would go easy on me like all the other guards and trainers.” A small laughed bubbled out. “But you didn’t.”

Seonghwa lowered his head, suppressing his own smile. How could he forget? He’d wanted to demonstrate his dedication, so he’d driven the Prince all the way to the edge of the cliff before throwing down his weapon and whisking the Prince into his arms, to keep him safe from falling.

“You are very skilled, ” Prince Hongjoong noted.

“Ah, really?” Seonghwa’s ears felt hot. “Sword is not my specialty.” His modesty was genuine, not only for show. Sometimes he wondered if the rumours were right and that it was his appearance rather than his abilities, that brought him here.

“And very gallant,” Prince Hongjoong said, stopping to tuck his pink flower behind Seonghwa's ear.

Seonghwa, unable to form words, just smiled.

“Say it again.” Prince Hongjoong looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes and a soft smile.

Seonghwa paused, breath caught in his chest. He remembered those words like it was only last week and not three years ago that he murmured them into the Prince’s ear, as he held the Prince in his arms at the edge of this very cliff. He meant them as much today as he did then. “I am your sword and your shield, my Prince.”

Prince Hongjoong was still gazing fondly at him. “You lead with your heart. That is why I chose you. And choosing you was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

Seonghwa felt warm all over from the Prince’s kind words. He was deeply proud that the Prince recognised his abilities and his devotion.

“And the only one.” The Prince’s eyes fluttered shut. A gust of wind ruffled his hair as he turned his face towards the green field. His expression was sorrowful.

“Is something wrong?” Seonghwa asked, heart racing to catch up with his questioning mind.

Prince Hongjoong sighed, a mix of frustration and despair. “I’m getting married. This spring. My mother has officially begun the process of selecting potential brides.”

“Already?” Seonghwa gasped, though he wasn’t sure why. 

“She says there’s no time to waste in producing another heir. If anything happens to me, our line ends. My uncle has eyes on the throne, of course, but he’s not at all suitable. He’d have us fighting wars on all fronts just to enrich himself. An alliance with the right family will strengthen us."

“Everything will change,” Seonghwa said, his words too quiet in the breeze. The sky was growing cloudy above them.

“Royal weddings are about making alliances and making babies. I've always known this was coming. She’s been preparing me for the throne for twelve years now.” The Prince’s voice grew higher as he began to speak faster. “I’ve had the pressure of the entire country on my shoulders since I was ten years old, yet I’ve barely been allowed out of the palace. How am I supposed to know that the people need, if I’m not allowed to meet them? Sure, I see crowds in the capital on special occasions and share a few encouraging words, but that’s not enough. I want to know what people’s lives are like. So I can know how to help them, as their Prince and someday…as their King.” He turned away from the field and stepped onto the very edge of the cliff, looking down at the land below and the scattering of villages across the horizon. 

Without hesitation, Seonghwa positioned his body close to the Prince’s and placed a gentle hand on his lower back. He was prepared to wrap his fingers in the fabric of the Prince’s coat, to keep him from losing balance. “My Prince, I am one of your people and I’ve seen how kind and good your heart is. I know you will do right by us all.”

Prince Hongjoong swayed with the breeze, the warmth of his body a beacon in the cold autumn air. Compelled by that heat, Seonghwa pressed their bodies flush together. His grip tightened at the Prince's back. 

"I don't want to marry..."

“A royal wedding will bring happiness to the people,” Seonghwa replied.

The Prince snorted and turned his face back towards the field. He pushed himself away, taking several large steps to gain some distance from him and from the cliff. Then his hands flew to his hips, in that familiar pose that signaled he was upset. He stared at Seonghwa for a long moment before he spoke. “Have you ever been in love?”

Seonghwa blinked. In love? That wasn't a question he often considered. When would he have time to fall in love? He was the same age as the Prince and had spent his life training to be a Royal Guardian. He didn't even know anyone who might love him back. He wasn't sure if he loved himself. “No,” he replied, flatly. “I chose this.”

“But I didn’t get to choose. I was born into this.” Prince Hongjoong released his angry stance and sighed. “Maybe this is the one thing common people have that I don’t. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? I dress in the finest silks, eat meat whenever I want, read books, and play music. I have so much and I’m very thankful.” He lowered his head. “But I will never have someone who loves me.”

“You have the love of your people,” Seonghwa replied.


	2. Chapter 2

  
The Prince barely spoke to Seonghwa for three days after their walk. He avoided him as much as he could avoid someone who was sworn to his side. Seonghwa was familiar with this game of push and pull. Whenever the Prince confided in him, he became distant soon thereafter. But three days was about all Prince Hongjoong could bear before speaking with Seonghwa again. He would typically break the silence with a joke or a juicy piece of palace gossip. 

This time it was about plans for his birthday feast. The Prince was tasting samples of the autumn fruit harvest when he asked Seonghwa about the difference between soft and flat persimmons. Seonghwa replied that one was ready to eat, while the other was best prepared. The Prince seemed fascinated with this concept and took a sample of each persimmon back to the garden house, where he set them on a table and spent the rest of the afternoon making paintings of them. 

It kept him quiet and focused, much like his lessons on the zither. He’d insisted that Seonghwa take up the lute, so that he would have someone to play with. Though Seonghwa wasn’t nearly as skilled as the Prince, having been learning for just three years compared to the twelve years the Prince had been playing, they had passed many a rainy afternoon together making music. They played so well together that the servants would gather to listen and the palace mystic even remarked on what beautiful marital harmony they would have. 

The Prince stopped inviting Seonghwa to play after that. Though he missed their musical hours, Seonghwa understood completely. Prince Hongjoong was, well, a Prince. And Seonghwa was in his employ. It wouldn’t do to have rumours about them floating around. There weren’t many noblemen or noblewomen their age passing through the palace, so the Prince attended lessons and lectures, dinners and teas, with people much older than him. Once, he played pitch-pot with the morning guard, Yunho, in the corridor. Minister Kang put a swift stop to that after the Prince almost put his eye out with a mis-aimed arrow. 

On this rainy day, Seonghwa watched for hours as the Prince painted his persimmons. Though, to be honest, the Prince’s expressions drew his interest more than the painting. Sometimes his eyes would grow big and wide, while he was considering an angle of shadow or an arc of light. Or a flash of pink tongue would poke from the corner of his mouth while he was concentrating. 

The Prince was so fascinated with painting, that he stayed once the afternoon light had dwindled, and kept working. At dusk he had candles lit and his dinner brought to the garden house. But dinner remained uneaten, much to Seonghwa’s displeasure, as he watched Prince Hongjoong stuff a singular, juicy dumpling into his mouth and leave the rest to grow cold, alongside a big bowl of clear, beef and seaweed soup. 

The Prince kept painting until he had to prop himself up with his elbows, before falling asleep with a brush in his hand. Seonghwa let him sleep. He’d seen the Prince fall into slumber at the most unexpected times and in the most unexpected places. It usually happened when he was working on something, like music or a painting. He became so absorbed in his interest, that he wouldn’t tear himself away, not to eat or sleep or do any other sensible thing. Master Choi said that the Prince had the heart of an artist and the mind of a leader. And when the two came into balance, like the rise and set of the moon and the sun, the Prince would accomplish great things. 

Mingi arrived with heavy footprints, boots sloshing in the still pouring rain. It startled the Prince awake and he called for tea and more candles. There was plenty of lamp oil but the Prince preferred the soft, warm glow of candlelight, and since the staff had retired back to their quarters, Mingi made the trek to the supply building to fetch them. 

“Seonghwa,” the Prince called, sleepily. “What do you think of my persimmons?”

Seonghwa regarded the fruit and their likeness on the twin sheets of paper before them. Afternoon persimmons and evening persimmons bore almost no resemblance to one another. In both paintings, one persimmon was bright and lightly sketched, brush strokes easy yet precise, while the other was shrunken in shadow and heavy layers of paint. “I think you’re a dedicated and promising artist, my Prince.”

Prince Hongjoong snorted. “You would say that. Can’t rely on staff to speak the truth.”

Was the Prince drunk on fatigue? Seonghwa stood from his perch on a pillow nearby and knelt beside the Prince. He peered at the paintings more closely. 

Prince Hongjoong blinked at him, eyes heavy with sleep. 

“I speak only the truth,” Seonghwa said. “And I admire your effort. The finest paintings don’t appear in an afternoon or an evening. They take years of practice to appear from brush and pigment. You are well on your way, my Prince.”

Prince Hongjoong smiled. He lifted his brush, dabbed it in wet ochre and flicked a streak across Seonghwa’s cheek. “My best work,” the Prince giggled. 

Seonghwa smirked, then spun the brush in the Prince’s hand so that it left a slash of colour on his own face. 

Prince Hongjoong’s mouth dropped open. Then laughter bubbled out. His eyes crinkled as he said, “I’d better put this away before one of us leaves this room as a persimmon.” He cleaned the brush and paint and put them back in their box. 

Seonghwa picked up a bit of white cloth and moistened it with water from the vessel on the table. “May I?” he asked, holding the cloth up to the Prince’s face. 

Prince Hongjoong swallowed, eyes fluttering from Seonghwa’s hand to his face and back again. Then he nodded. 

Gently, Seonghwa cupped the Prince’s chin and swiped the cloth along his smooth jaw and soft cheek, until all traces of paint were gone. Prince Hongjoong watched a low burning candle in the distance and Seonghwa was glad that his eyes were soft focused elsewhere. The Prince’s gaze was strong and he wasn’t sure he could hold it. His eyelashes were long and seemed to brush his cheeks when he blinked. 

The sound of Mingi’s boots interrupted their haze and suddenly Seonghwa scrambled to his feet. “Will you be requiring anything further of me this evening?” 

“No,” Prince Hongjoong replied, adjusting his paintings to dry on the table. “You may go.” 

Seonghwa bowed, slipped into his outer robe, and stepped into the cold, rainy night. A confused Mingi watched him leave and Seonghwa pretended not to hear him say that he forgot his hat. 

********

Several days drifted by with barely a word from the Prince. It wasn’t until his birthday that his gloomy mood finally lifted. Seonghwa woke extra early to observe the staff as they washed and dressed the Prince for breakfast. As the morning guard, this was usually Yunho’s role, but Seonghwa sent him away to enjoy tea and sweet buns in honour of the Prince’s special day.

The Queen had ordered a morning feast for her son and invited the Royal Court to attend. There would be events and parties throughout the day, lasting well into the night. Even the common people celebrated the Prince’s birthday, his health and vitality had become a symbol of well-being for the entire country. 

A pot of fragrant tea was prepared and the table lined with steaming plates and bowls, soups and rice, flaky portions of fish, dozens of side dishes. Light, simple fare that wouldn’t spoil the Prince’s appetite for the main feast later in the day. 

While Seonghwa didn’t partake in the morning feast, he would be fed after. The Prince was always generous, making sure to leave choice pieces of meat for him. He’d already scrutinised the kitchen and the staff, making sure that the food was tasted before it reached the royal table. 

Prince Hongjoong was barely three sips into his tea when the Queen called for attention. She had an announcement. The Prince smile sweetly, anticipating his mother’s words of affection. He looked resplendent in his new royal red hanbok, embroidered with shimmering gold thread. It was a gift from the Queen, an adult sized version of the one he wore as a baby, which was on display in the family hall, beside his first year portrait. 

The Queen was known for her beauty, which she used to her every advantage when entertaining or holding court. Her eye smile could calm the seas, the people said. But she was also very shrewd. A fact that Seonghwa had observed in great detail over his years in the palace. 

“As you all know, we are gathered here to celebrate the birth and life of my son, Kim Hongjoong, Prince of Joseon. This is a special year, as it is the year our dear prince makes the transition from unwed boy to married man.”

Prince Hongjoong’s smile faded into his teacup. Seonghwa could see the hurt flicker across his eyes. But like a true born prince, it quickly disappeared behind a mask of insouciance. 

“Thus, I am pleased to announce the selection of the three noblewomen under consideration to become his bride and the next Princess of Joseon.” 

The Prince’s jaw stiffened and he set his teacup down with a clatter. This must have been news to him as well, Seonghwa figured. He didn’t look the slightest bit pleased. 

“Over the next few months we will be entertaining visits from each of the three noblewomen. They are Miss Shin, descendant of Minister Shin, Miss Hwang, descendant of Provincial Administrator Hwang, and Miss Min, descendent of Scholar Min Sun. All three ladies represent the finest of noblewomen in our great country. Any one of them would make a suitable bride for our dear Prince. However, I will be selecting only one. The woman will be tested for their abilities in politics, their potential in child birthing, and their support and commitment to our reign.” 

Seonghwa was making mental notes. He was determined to investigate every detail about the women, their clans, and the preparations for selection day. It was difficult to imagine that any woman would be a match for Prince Hongjoong. 

“Are you quite finished?” Prince Hongjoong said, eyes circling towards the ceiling. He was slumped back in his seat, scowling. “I’d like to get on with celebrating my birthday.”

“Did you have something substantive to add?” Queen Hyori responded with a pointed tone. 

“No,” the Prince smirked. “I don’t get a say in the matter anyway.” 

The tension was thick around the table as the members of the Royal Court ceased eating and drinking. 

“Judging from your tone, you certainly have some opinions.” 

“You wouldn’t hear them anyway,” Prince Hongjoong snapped.

“Contain your insolence or leave the table,” the Queen spoke sharply. 

“Gladly,” the Prince said and he stood up and stalked out of the room. 

Seonghwa hurried after him, following the string of curses from hallway to hallway until they reached the Prince’s private chambers. 

“Leave me be,” the Prince ordered, as Seonghwa trailed him into his room. “Can’t I have any privacy around here?”

Seonghwa was silent. He couldn’t leave the Prince. They both knew that. And he couldn’t do much to help. 

“Go away!” Prince Hongjoong shouted, pacing across his room. 

Seonghwa blanched. The Prince had never spoken to him in a raised voice before. He knew the Prince was upset, but what had he done to become the object of his anger?

“Kim Hongjoong!” Queen Hyori demanded, storming into the chamber. “How dare you behave like a petulant child in front of the Royal Court!”

“Good to know you care more about the Royal Court than about me,” the Prince spat.

“Stop it! You are the Crown Prince! Someday you will lead this country and you need to show that you are capable. And you need a suitable wife by your side. Now, I’ve let you fool around for long enough. It’s time to assume your duty to your country.” 

The Prince crossed his arms over his chest, fighting back tears. “You never even asked me.” 

“Ask you?” The Queen tossed the skirt fabric of her golden hanbok and scoffed. “Are you not well aware of tradition? Did anyone ask me if I wanted to marry your father? No! But I would do it again because I understand that my duty to this country is far more important than any selfish personal desires.”

Prince Hongjoong turned away as tears rolled down his face. 

“What is behind this behaviour? Don’t tell me you’re in love with one of your courtesans,” the Queen chided. “You can still have your fun on the side, as long as you keep it quiet and make lots of babies.”

“No! I’ve never had the chance to fall in love. Training, classes, supervision, being surrounded by guards. That’s my life! You keep me locked up in this tomb. I’ve never really lived.” Prince Hongjoong’s voice was pained, his body wracked with anger. 

The Queen was quiet for a long moment. “I have to,” she responded. “I can’t lose you too.” 

With that, she gathered her skirts and left, a storm cloud of perfume and fabric. 

The Prince sank to his knees, an open sob escaped as he buried his face in his sleeves. 

Seonghwa wished he wasn’t witnessing this. The Prince despised being seen in a vulnerable state. The palace already scrutinised everything he did. His entire range of emotions were fodder for public consumption. It wasn’t that he disapproved of the Prince’s tears. It was that there was nothing he could do to console him. His life was devoted to protecting Prince Hongjoong’s body. But there was little he could do to protect his heart. 

Before he could stop himself, Seonghwa rushed to the Prince and sank onto his knees by his side, wrapping the crying boy in his arms. Prince Hongjoong resisted, attempting to pull himself away from Seonghwa’s embrace, but he was too exhausted to put up a fight, so he let Seonghwa hold him. 

“Why are you doing this?” the Prince whispered.

“Because I am your shield,” Seonghwa replied. 

  
********

When Prince Hongjoong awoke several hours later, festivities could be heard in the distance. A prince’s birthday was a public event. It carried on with or without him. Though his heart may have been in tatters, he understood the importance of being a pillar of strength for the people. So he dragged himself out of bed, washed his face and sat quietly while the staff powdered him and lined his eyes and rouged his lips. He changed into a soft pink hanbok that reminded Seonghwa of the hibiscus blossom the Prince had given him when they visited the green field. He’d kept it in a cup of water by his bedside, until the petals curled and withered away. Such was anything beautiful in this life. 

The Prince attended the festivities, quietly ignoring his mother, and sending his beatific smile to the crowds who gathered to celebrate him. He truly was a picture perfect Prince. Handsome and kind and charismatic. That’s how the people spoke of him. There was much music and plenty of colourful banners and all assortments of sweets, that Seonghwa could barely keep up with the speed at which the Prince flounced around, like a hummingbird swooping from flower to flower. 

The evening feast was opulent and went on for hours. The Royal Chefs prepared three tables of settings with more than thirty dishes, Seonghwa counted, and most importantly, there were rice cakes stuffed with sweet red beans and sprinkled with sesame seeds. Gifts from the Royal Court were piled nearly as high as the ceiling and the Queen unveiled a three-panel folding screen, depicting an intricate scene of a Royal banquet for the Crown Prince. 

Numerous courtesans angled for his favour, refilling his cup with chrysanthemum wine as they cooed and flirted. The Prince was not known to drink much, so when Yeosang produced a bottle of beolddeok ju, hidden in his hanbok, Seonghwa had to intervene. The sweet, herbal wine was believed to increase male potency. It wasn’t brewed in the palace, which gave Seonghwa reason to confiscate it, much to Yeosang’s displeasure. The courtesan scowled at Seonghwa and resumed pawing at the Prince’s clothes. Seonghwa did not approve of such brazen attempts to garner the Prince’s attention. Skinship was not something for public display, certainly not before the Royal Court. Such behaviour could harm the Prince’s image and Seonghwa would not stand idly by while any form of harm came to Prince Hongjoong. 

“My Prince,” he said, bowing deeply. “On this day, as we celebrate your birth, may I honour you with a recitation?”

Prince Hongjoong’s eyes lit up and broad smile warmed his face. “Of course.” 

Seonghwa searched for a poem he could recite from memory and found this. 

“Were I to build a bamboo hut on the ice

Were I to die of cold with you on the ice,

O night, run slow, till our lives are spent.

  
When I lie alone, restless, vigilant,

Only peach blossoms wave over the west window.

You bring no sorrow, welcome the spring breeze.

  
I have believed those who vowed to each other;

My soul will follow yours forever.

You, who persuaded me this was true.”

The verse was from the Manjeoncheun, an anonymous old poem often interpreted to be about love. But it spoke to Seonghwa and his devotion, the vow he’d taken to protect the Prince with his life. He bowed again and when he lifted his gaze, he saw the Prince was no longer smiling. His expression was a mix of hope and fear. 

Yeosang glared at him and moved to pour the Prince another drink. But the Prince waved him away. 

“I’ve had too much to drink already. I’m feeling faint. Excuse me.” The Prince stood and wobbled, ever so slightly. He put the back of his hand to his forehead and held out his arm. Seonghwa took the Prince’s arm and placed a hand at his back, leading the drunken royal out of the the banquet hall.

He was tipsy and hiccuping cutely while Seonghwa guided him down the long corridors, staggering back to his chambers. Seonghwa wondered if he should summon staff to free the Prince from the layers of his beautiful silk clothes. He decided it has already been a long day, so he set himself to freeing the Prince from his layers. It was harder than it looked. The Prince’s slight body was heavy with drunkenness. But he was completely pliant as Seonghwa undressed him and guided him to his bed. 

“I’ll fetch you some water, my Prince,” Seonghwa said. 

“Don’t bother,” Prince Hongjoong giggled. “I’m not drunk.” 

“What?” Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“I just wanted to leave the party.”

A slow smile spread across Seonghwa’s face. “You mean you were faking this whole time? The hiccups? The staggering?”

“Yeah,” Prince Hongjoong laughed again as he hopped onto his bed and settled himself against a pile of pillows. 

“You let me undress you,” Seonghwa said, flush with embarrassment yet relieved that he hadn’t accidentally said or done something stupid.

“Yeah.” Another giggle.

“Why? Didn’t you enjoy the celebrations?” 

“I did! But then I grew tired of people pretending to like me.” 

“But people do like you.”

“Who? Everyone just wants favours from me. Like the courtesans. I could never fall in love with a courtesan.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa said, wondering what to do with this information. “I thought you enjoyed their company.” 

Prince Hongjoong giggled. “That’s sex. Not love.” 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. He was uncomfortable speaking with the Prince so intimately. 

“I liked your poem,” the Prince said, gazing up at him. 

Seonghwa blushed and bowed his head. “It was my honour to recite it for you today.”

“While I wouldn’t want to ever freeze to death, it might not be so terrible if I was with you. It would mean we had at least one adventure, out there beyond the palace walls.”

This time Seonghwa laughed. He thought about the two princes he’d seen today. The charming monarch, courting his people. And the sad boy, burdened by a life that wasn’t his own. The real Prince Hongjoong was probably somewhere in the middle. A young man, with a soft heart, and every reason in the world to hide it. 

"If it's what you wish, my Prince, I'd adventure anywhere with you."

Prince Hongjoong smiled and snuggled under his blankets. "Recite me another poem."


	3. Chapter 3

  
Seonghwa was deep in sleep when he felt a hand rustle his shoulder. He started to rouse, reaching for the dagger under his pillow, when a small voice whispered in his ear.

“Hwaseong, wake up.” 

He blinked a few times and lifted his head to see Prince Hongjoong crouched by his bedside.

“What’s wrong, my Prince?” Seonghwa sat up in a rush. He listened for commotion in the palace but there was only the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears.

“Nothing,” the Prince whispered. “Wake up, we’re running away.” 

“What?” Seonghwa said. 

“Shhh, don’t let Mingi hear us. Come on, now get dressed and get us out of here.”

Get us out of here? Was the Prince drunk? He hadn’t been drunk when he’d fallen asleep just two poems into the book he’d made Seonghwa recite. 

“You can’t run away, my Prince,” Seonghwa whispered.

“I know, that’s why I need you to help me escape.” Prince Hongjoong grabbed a thick hanbok that was folded atop a low cabinet and dropped it on Seonghwa. “Wear this and hurry up before Mingi returns from the washroom. I waited for this exact timing. He always takes eight minutes.” 

Seonghwa searched for something to say that would change the Prince’s mind. He couldn’t run away, he was the Crown Prince! The entire palace would be dispatched to find him as soon as it was known he was gone. And Seonghwa couldn’t sneak him out. He’d probably be dismissed from duty, if, no, _when_ they were caught. He opened his mouth to protest again but stopped when the Prince pressed his face close to his. 

“You said you’d adventure with me anywhere,” Prince Hongjoong whispered. 

The Prince spoke no lies. Seonghwa had said that, this very night. But running away wasn’t what he had in mind. When Seonghwa signed up for the Royal Guard, it was with visions of thwarting mercenaries and foiling assassination schemes. He never imagined he’d be putting a tempestuous prince to bed or sneaking him out of the palace. But the prince needed protection, not only of his body, but of his mind and heart. Therefore Seonghwa saw this as part of his duty. 

It would do no good for the Prince to slip out on his own. He’d probably get caught by the Royal Guard and then the Queen would be informed and the tensions between them would only get worse. If Seonghwa went with him, he could keep watch on the Prince and maybe even convince him to return to the palace. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa sighed. “I’ll get dressed.” 

The Prince scurried back to his room and Seonghwa slipped into the charcoal grey hanbok the Prince had chosen, then strapped a sword to his hip. He waited for the Prince to finish his scant preparations. When the Prince reappeared, he was wearing an outfit that he must have swiped from the staff laundry. A black hanbok at least three sizes too big, with a simple satchel slung across his body. Hardly the suiting and supplies he would need to get more than a day from the palace. 

“Let’s go!” Prince Hongjoong whispered, excitedly.

Seonghwa stepped into the hallway. It was quiet. But Mingi’s eight minutes would soon be up, so they had to move fast. 

“Follow me,” Seonghwa told the Prince. He walked swiftly and silently down the corridor, keeping his body low and close to the wall. They made several right turns, until they came to a short hallway with a large, carved cabinet at the end. It was there as a secret escape route for the royal family, in case intruders made it this far and entered the royal residences. 

In seconds, Seonghwa picked the lock and opened the doors. The cabinet was lined with weapons. He ushered the Prince inside and then crouched in behind him, closing and latching the cabinet doors. No light reached within the cabinet. He felt the Prince’s small hands cling to his shoulders. He covered one of the Prince’s hands with his own, a comforting gesture, before tapping the three trigger points that released the false panel in the back. He crawled through to the hidden corridor, then extended a hand to help the Prince. 

The darkness was deep and complete. Prince Hongjoong pressed himself against Seonghwa, unwilling to break connection between them even for a moment. Seonghwa soothed him with a reassuring hand over his hair and murmured in his ear, “climb onto my back and hold on tight.” 

He crouched down, allowing the Prince to drape himself over his back and wrap his legs around his waist. Then he started picking his way up the wooden trellis that lined the wall. When they reached the top of the trellis, Seonghwa extended an arm and forcefully dislodged the stone slab above them. Cool, white light appeared as they climbed through the gap and onto the palace outer wall. 

Prince Hongjoong slid onto his own two feet and gasped. “That was amazing!”

Seonghwa couldn’t help but smile as he shoved the stone slab back into place. “Stay low,” he said. 

The Prince complied immediately, dropping down onto his heels and hands next to Seonghwa. The air was brisk and the sky was bright with stars. They both peered over the edge of the wall at the ground below.

“The hardest part is yet to come. It’s a big drop from atop these walls, so I need you to do this slowly and carefully so that you don’t get hurt.” 

Prince Hongjoong nodded. 

“Now, when I get to the bottom, I’m going to stand against the wall and you’re going to dry your hands and hold onto the ledge really tight, then let your body hang down until your feet touch my hands. Got it?”

“Got it,” the Prince said. “But how are you gonna get down?”

Seonghwa flashed him a grin. “Watch.”

In a swift move, he grabbed the edge of the wall and lightly vaulted over the side. His boots scraped against the stone as he pushed off and made a full turn, leaping down, and rolling safely onto the grass. 

The Prince’s tiny fist pumped the air in a silent cheer. Seonghwa lined himself up with the wall, stretching to his full height, and motioned for the Prince to climb down. The Prince’s bag thumped the ground beside him and then he could hear the Prince begin to slowly descend. Seonghwa reached up with both hands, as far as he could, but it was no use. The Prince was a small, slight man and his body did not extend low enough for Seonghwa to help him. 

“Seonghwa!” Prince Hongjoong whined, “what should I do?”

“Okay, bend your knees and press your feet onto the wall and when you’re ready, I want you to jump.” 

The Prince bravely did as he was told, launching himself off of the wall and into Seonghwa’s waiting arms.

“It’s a good thing you’re light as a feather,” Seonghwa chuckled, swinging the Prince in an arc and setting him gently on the ground.

Prince Hongjoong grinned, adorable in his oversized commoner clothes. “We made it.” 

“We made it,” Seonghwa smiled back at him. 

********

They walked along the path that led away from the palace and across the green field. There was a steep trail in the side of the hill that dropped down to the valley below. In the distance there were lights, a village with a tavern, and because of the steep descent to get there, most people from the palace preferred the tavern in the village east of here. The main road was long and winding and it took nearly an hour to reach the valley.

The moonlight was bright, illuminating the trail, as well as Prince Hongjoong’s happy face. As they descended the trail, hand in hand (and Seonghwa’s hand around the Prince’s waist at a few particularly sharp switchbacks), the Prince chattered on about their big adventure. He’d decided that Seonghwa would be Hwaseong and that he would be Joonghong - two tiger hunters! When Seonghwa pointed out that neither of them were outfitted for tiger hunting, the Prince decided they would be bards passing through on their way to the palace, hoping to catch an audience with the Queen. The Prince loved singing and, on a few firelit evenings, tried to cajole Seonghwa into joining him. But Seonghwa refused to sing in front of the Prince. That was where his bravery reached its limit. 

The tavern was crowded when they arrived. The villagers were still raucously celebrating Prince Hongjoong’s birthday. Seonghwa scanned the room and, not detecting any imminent dangers, ushered the Prince to a small table in the back, with a clear path to the rear door. They ordered fried rice cakes and the local liquor. Though he’d dined plenty at the Prince’s birthday feast, Seonghwa was hungry after all that exertion. 

They drank and ate and made conversation. The Prince had barely stopped chatting since they’d left the palace. Seonghwa too was in a chatty mood, playing merrily into the farce of their invented characters. Tiger hunters turned bards, travelling the land singing songs of their tiger trapping days. The Prince practiced altering his accent to suit his bard character, which amused Seonghwa so much that he started teaching him bits of the southern regional dialect. They went back and forth, adding outrageous twist and turns to their tiger tales, until they could barely speak without bursting into laughter. 

Seonghwa had to remind himself to keep an eye on the crowd, lest anyone recognise the Prince. Most of the men were soldiers, unlikely to have ever seen Prince Hongjoong in person. The tavern manager, a kisaeng, had a handful of her trainees roaming around, looking for wealthy travellers amongst the regular soldiers. They visited tables and had men buy them drinks and, periodically, led the entire tavern in a bellowing drinking song. 

The Prince loved this part, singing his heart out, though Seonghwa had to guide him with the words to some of the local folk songs. He was still reluctant to sing at a volume above a whisper, but after two rounds of liquor, he and the Prince were crooning together. Prince Hongjoong, in a fit of giggles, slumped against Seonghwa and pounded his little fist on his shoulder, after he completely flubbed the words to Great Son of Joseon. But he defended himself, insisting that as the current Great Son of Joseon, he was never the one singing it. 

Without having to watch his speech, Seonghwa was free to banter playfully with the Prince, even tease him a little. Without the intense scrutiny of the palace, the Prince was free to show a more open side of himself, which genuinely surprised Seonghwa. It was rare to see him so easy. The Prince was sweet and funny. He even refilled Seonghwa’s cup and fed him bites of rice cake. His gestures and expressions were cute. He looked happy. 

When Seonghwa ordered a third round of liquor, at the Prince’s insistence, Manager Kisaeng took notice and sent one of her girls over. The girl was mildly pretty, with hair parted and tied in a low bun. She wore a simple, light pink, hanbok and her lips were stained a deeper pink. She brought their liquor and after pouring their drinks, asked if she could sit with them. Since it would be impolite to refuse, Seonghwa gestured to the bench beside him and nudged closer to Prince Hongjoong. But the Prince didn’t move to make more room. Instead he stared at the girl as if she’d just extinguished the only light in the room. 

The girl carried on skilfully, toasting to them, and steering them into conversation about the glory of the Prince. Who could decline a regaling of colourful accounts of Prince Hongjoong’s fabled beauty and kindness? After all, his smile was as soothing as a spring rain and he generously sent extra rice to the south during last season’s floods. Seonghwa could tell the Prince was entertained hearing his own accolades, but his amusement ended abruptly when the girl shifted her attention to Seonghwa’s appearance. She complimented his handsome face and inquired about the wife he didn’t have. Seonghwa had been entertained by kisaeng before, when he’d gone out drinking with members of the Royal Guard. They would coo about how handsome he was, but he had no interest in paying a woman for her time and insincere flattery. 

There had been a girl, back home in the south, and though she was smart, kind, and pretty, her affections couldn’t compete with the Royal Guard. What woman could? Seonghwa was certain that his place was in fealty to the Prince. The bright, charming, tender, young Prince disguised as a commoner at his side. 

The kisaeng girl made another flirtatious remark and then placed an intrepid hand on Seonghwa’s bare wrist. 

“No,” Prince Hongjoong scolded, rapping her fingers with his sleeve. “He’s mine.” 

The girl startled, as did Seonghwa, and she quickly apologised and took her leave. Seonghwa watched her scuttle away from the table and then turned to look at the Prince. What he found was an intense gaze that bored right through him. Seonghwa ducked his head, sheepish.

“She can’t have you,” Prince Hongjoong insisted, in an offended tone. 

“I wasn’t going to go with her,” Seonghwa said, quietly. His eyes flicked upwards to meet the Prince's.

“Good,” the Prince huffed. Then he turned away, swallowed the rest of his liquor, and joined the chorus of Arirang. 

Seonghwa leaned in closer. “I think it’s time to put you to bed again, my…my…Bard,” he said, catching his words before calling the Prince by his usual honoured title. 

The Prince turned to him with a pouty face and whined, “but it’s my birthday!”

Seonghwa smiled fondly. He couldn’t help it. The Prince’s cheeks were flushed, but he looked happier tonight than Seonghwa had seen him in months. “Okay, a little bit longer.” 

Prince Hongjoong smiled and threw his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “Sing with me!” 

Seonghwa sang and the sound of their voices harmonising together filled him with warmth. Or maybe it was the liquor. Or the fact that the Prince was clinging to him with a blissful smile. 

It didn’t take long before the Prince was passed out in Seonghwa’s lap. 

********

The inn at the tavern had one room remaining when Seonghwa finally made it to see the innkeeper. It wasn’t easy, with a half drunk - half asleep prince on his arm. They stumbled down the hall to find a very small room furnished with a low square table, two cushions, and a bedroll that filled the rest of the space. 

For the second time that night, Seonghwa undressed the Prince. This time should have been easier, with the Prince’s common clothes being less layered and with ties that fastened in a much simpler way, but since the Prince was drunkenly splayed on the bed, Seonghwa had to position and re-position him like a doll, to get his clothes off. The Prince woke when he started shivering, unused to the cold. His room in the palace was well heated and so was Seonghwa’s, by proximity. They both shivered in their underclothes until Seonghwa covered them with two thick layers of blankets. They could have slept apart, each with their own blanket on separate sides of the bed, but it was clear the Prince didn’t want that, when he immediately wrapped himself around Seonghwa’s frame.

“Cold,” the Prince murmured, nuzzling his head into the warmth at Seonghwa’s neck. 

Seonghwa wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, where to put them. Should he wind his arms around the Prince? Or keep his hands flat on the bed? Did the Prince want to be held? Or did he just want to use him as a long pillow? 

Though it was past two in the morning, Seonghwa was now wide awake. He wondered if the Prince could feel his heart pounding. It wasn’t that the Prince was making him uncomfortable, at least not with his elbows or feet. They both needed all the warmth they could get in the chilly November night. It was the opposite, in fact. This felt good. Too good. Seonghwa hadn’t realised how much his body craved to be touched. 

He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he’d bedded a woman. Tonight had been his first opportunity in ages. Though the Prince had put a commanding stop to that. Not that Seonghwa had even considered the kisaeng. He simply wasn’t interested. He hadn’t thought about it at all, until now, as he found himself in bed with another warm body, a mere two thin layers of underclothes separating their skins. 

Right now his entire being felt aware, of human touch and how much he enjoyed it. Seonghwa closed his eyes and tried to think about farming, picking rice, pulling sweet potatoes. When that didn’t work, he told himself to shut up and get some sleep. 

But he couldn’t. Not with someone else, in such close contact. Maybe the Prince did this with his courtesans all the time. But Seonghwa hadn’t ever spent the whole night with someone else’s body entangled with his. And this wasn’t just someone, this was the Crown Prince. Commoners had been beheaded for less. 

He had to remind himself that he was no longer a commoner. He was the Prince’s Royal Guardian and, as such, he had a duty to keep the Prince safe. Considering the circumstances, this was the best way to do that. 

Seonghwa breathed, slowly and evenly. Prince Hongjoong was asleep in his arms, and barely dressed, and in a few hours they would have to wake up and deal with the aftermath of sneaking the Prince out of the palace. Though Seonghwa couldn’t see his face, he could feel the Prince’s warm breath on his neck and chest. At least he’d made the Prince happy by showing him a bit of the adventure he so desired.

He closed his eyes and decided to let his hands go where they felt most natural. One found a resting place at the small of the Prince’s back. The other stroked his hair. 


	4. Chapter 4

Seonghwa woke at the same time every morning. He was used to it and his body was trained for it. But he wasn’t used to waking up with a sleeping prince draped across his chest. 

He’d let the Prince rest there all day, if he could. But they had things to do today, namely return to the palace. So he ran a gentle hand over the Prince’s soft hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. 

“Wake up, my Prince,” he murmured, returning to the polite form of address. Last night had been strange, speaking with the Prince as though they were same age friends. 

His head ached a little, but that was to be expected after a night of drinking. 

A soft, high pitched whine escaped from the Prince. Seonghwa smiled. 

“Wake up, my Prince,” he repeated. “We didn’t sneak out of the palace just to sleep, did we?”

The Prince bolted upright, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands before glancing around the room. He pulled the covers up to his chin and looked down at Seonghwa. A slow smile spread across his face.

“Last night was so much fun. My best birthday ever. Thank you.” 

Seonghwa sat up, pulling his knees to his chest. He looked at the Prince, shyly. “Thank you. It was an honour to watch you attempt to sing Great Son of Joseon with a tavern full of soldiers.”

The Prince laughed and shoved Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

“I don’t suppose there’s a hot bath here, is there?” 

Seonghwa shook his head. “Such luxuries are reserved for the palace and homes of the wealthy. There’s a bathhouse in town, but I do not think it is suitable for the Great Son to bathe there. Someone might recognise you.”

Prince Hongjoong raised his brows. “So, how do we wash then?”

Seonghwa chuckled. The Prince truly had no clue how to survive outside of the palace walls. 

“I know what you’re thinking,” the Prince admonished. “And before you say it,” he extended a slender finger and tapped Seonghwa’s nose, “this is why I brought _you_.” 

Seonghwa smiled again. He’d been doing a lot of that over the last twenty-four hours. “I will summon the staff to prepare a basin.” 

When the washing supplies arrived, Seonghwa arranged a folding screen to partition a small bathing corner. At the palace, the Prince was brushed and bathed, oiled and massaged by staff. However, he did not require such services of Seonghwa. He even dressed himself, perhaps just to prove to Seonghwa that he could. If the smirk on his face, when he finished tying his hanbok, was a hint, he even took a bit of pleasure in doing something for himself. 

Once they were dressed, they ate big bowls of rice porridge and drank a green, herbal tea in the tavern. The Prince chattered on about where they should go next and what adventures might be waiting for them on the road there. He’d packed a dagger in his bag but probably should have brought a sword. Or maybe a spear because what if they met a tiger. If he were close enough to swipe at a tiger with a dagger, he would already be dead. The Prince then sighed and said he would settle for a kitten, but his mother was allergic and wouldn’t allow him to have one, even though it would stay in his chambers and maybe the garden house. Yet another reason why he was running away!

The sky was clear and blue when they stepped outside. Pale autumn sunlight cast its slight warming gaze over the ground and the trees and their faces. The Prince turned his up to greet the low sun, letting his eyes slip shut. His shoulder brushed Seonghwa’s arm and stayed there, following him without question. They walked parallel to the palace for a few minutes, towards where a cluster of golden gingko trees stood near a small creek. 

“How pretty,” the Prince mused, gesturing to the bright yellow leaves.

“From a distance,” Seonghwa agreed. “Until they drop their foul smelling fruits.”

Prince Hongjoong made a disgusted face. “Really? They do that?”

“Yeah,” Seonghwa said, his voice soft. “Enjoy them now, before their beauty rots.”

As they drew closer to the trees, a long shadow appeared. 

“Seonghwa, look!” Prince Hongjoong said, tapping his arm and pointing. 

But Seonghwa was already aware of what, or who, the Prince was pointing to. 

“Good Morning!” Yunho called, before bending into a deep bow. “I trust you had an enjoyable visit to the Barley Green Inn and Tavern.”

Prince Hongjoong looked confused. “What…what is this?” He looked at Seonghwa. “Why is he here?” 

“I’ve come to escort you back to the palace, Prince,” Yunho answered carefully, his gaze flitting between Seonghwa and the Prince.

“What?!” Prince Hongjoong exclaimed. He stared at Seonghwa, his expression a mix of anger and disappointment. 

“My Prince, it’s time to return to the palace,” Seonghwa said. His tone was flat, though his heart was racing.

“You...you set this up?” Prince Hongjoong sniffled.

“I left Mingi a note last night, asking him to send Yunho here to meet us. The entire palace will be on high alert once it is discovered that you’re gone,” Seonghwa replied.

“So you told the guards on me?” The Prince’s eyes were wide and he balled his hands up into little fists that disappeared into the sleeves of his oversized clothes.

“I am your guard. Your Guardian. It is my solemn duty to keep you safe. And it is not safe for you to be out here, unprepared.” 

“I trusted you!” Prince Hongjoong cried out, eyes glassy. “And you betrayed me!” He sharply turned his head away, arms crossing over his chest as he attempted to stifle his tears.

It took all of Seonghwa’s training in meditation to maintain his composure. He took a slow, deep breath and calmly said, “I didn’t betray you, my Prince. I did this to protect you.”

“I thought I could trust you, if anyone, _you_ ” the Prince gasped, tears rolling down his face. 

“You can. Of course, you can. I did this for you,” Seonghwa insisted. His insides felt as rotten as the stench that wafted over from the gingko trees. 

The Prince glared at him and spoke with bitter rage. “You don’t care about me. Your loyalty is to the throne, not me.”

“No, my Prince! Please, I…”

“That’s enough,” Prince Hongjoong commanded, drying his cheeks with his sleeve. “You’re dismissed.” 

Seonghwa wanted to say more, wanted to plead his case before the Prince and receive his understanding and forgiveness. But instead he stayed quiet. He exchanged a troubled look with Yunho and took a step back from the Prince. Then he bowed deeply, not rising until the Prince and Yunho were already several metres away. 

********

Seonghwa’s chest felt tight and his shoulders ached when he returned to the palace. He felt slightly nauseated and the scent of decayed gingko fruits lingered in his nose. He didn’t bother going back to his room. Instead he went directly to the royal bath. As Royal Guardian, one of his privileges was being permitted to use the bath at anytime. 

Seonghwa loved a bath, loved to soak until his fingers and toes turned pruny and then soak some more. For him, bathing was an hour of respite that soothed both his body and mind. He always felt replenished after a bath.

He stripped off his clothes, rinsed himself, and entered the warm pool. He sat down and placed a damp washcloth, steamed with floral oils, over his face. Breathing in the fragrance helped to relax his quivering heart. He concentrated on emptying his mind of all thoughts, princely or otherwise. 

“Seonghwa seonbae,” a voice said.

Seonghwa removed the cloth from his face and saw a young, male bath attendant crouched beside him.

“Please excuse the interruption. A member of the royal family would like to use the bath and has requested that you leave.” 

A member of the royal family? There was only one male royal in the palace and he’d never asked for him to leave the bath before. Just last night, they’d shared a bed and now they couldn’t share a bath, though they’d soaked together plenty of times. This could only mean that the Prince was very angry and unwilling to speak or interact with him at this time.

Seonghwa exited the bath, depleted. The Prince, eyes sharp like needles, watched him walk over to dry himself and slip into a robe. He could still feel the Prince’s stare until he was on the other side of the threshold with the door closed behind him. 

Yunho was there, guarding the entrance. “This will pass,” he said, clapping Seonghwa’s shoulder. “You did the right thing.” 

Seonghwa knew it was the right thing to do. He just wished the Prince would see that. There was no dishonesty in his heart towards the Prince. He only did what he was sworn to do and that is protect the Prince at all costs. Even if that cost is the Prince’s favour. 

“I’d like a full report of all activity when I take my watch later today.”

“Yes, of course,” Yunho replied. “Get some rest.” 

Seonghwa didn’t have time to rest. There were many things on his mind, such as wondering if there was anything he could say or do to help the Prince understand. Since the Prince wouldn’t so much as see him, Seonghwa had to focus on his next dilemma. 

He returned to his room to dress and then set off for the palace library, where he would research the Prince’s prospective brides. Protecting the Prince included protecting his bride, though she would have a Guardian of her own. But it also included protecting the Prince from his bride, if she were ever to cause him harm. 

Seonghwa spent hours poring over accounts about the three noblewomen and their families. He took copious notes, detailing any inconsistencies or suspicious activities. Though the Royal Council performed their own review and selection of the noblewomen, Seonghwa felt it was important that he also conduct his own enquiry. 

After all, there was no one he trusted more with the Prince than himself. Not because he believed he always knew what was best for the Prince, but because he believed he would never intentionally cause the Prince harm. Though now he was realising that he’d caused unintentional harm. Prince Hongjoong thought he couldn’t trust him. And the sharp ache of that realisation was tearing through Seonghwa from the inside. He’d failed the Prince, in a way. He hadn’t taken good enough care with his heart. 

By the time Seonghwa was scheduled to relieve Yunho from his watch, he’d memorised a great amount of information about the three noblewomen. He’d traced their clan lineages, familial alliances, conflicts past, present, and potential, reviewed their fortunes, taxation records and land holdings, even their astrological charts, and a transcript from a shaman describing any blessings and curses. 

Miss Hwang’s family was known for their wealth. Though they held the lowest status of the three families, their wealth was responsible for their rapid rise into the highest echelons of society. It was unconventional for Miss Hwang to even make the selection list, considering her father’s rank as a provincial administrator, especially since this could be interpreted as favouring one province over the others. At only 19, Miss Hwang herself was known for her love of silks, having amassed personal collection of hundreds of hanbok in every colour imaginable. Rather distasteful considering that her home province maintained the highest number of hereditary serfs in all of Joseon. 

Miss Min’s family was known for their famed lineage. The Yeoheung Min clan professed their descent from the venerable scholar Min Sun, a major disciple of Confucius. Numerous intellectuals and government officials, including Royal Council members, and even a prior Queen had originated from this clan. After a thorough lineal investigation, it was declared that Miss Min and Prince Hongjoong shared no ancestry and, thus, would not be barred from marriage. Though the family boasted of their scholarly authority, Miss Min herself was held in high regard for her beauty. Many questioned why a beauty from an esteemed family would still be unmarried at her age (26!). It was said that she was holding out for a Prince. 

Miss Shin’s family was known for their long established nobility and service to Joseon. Her father and grandfather and several generations of great grandparents had all been members of the Royal Council. Minister Shin was one of the King’s court advisors and now similarly advised the Queen. At 22, Miss Shin herself was highly literate. She wrote poetry and calligraphy and taught other noblewomen to read and write. She’d even spent time studying in a Buddhist temple, something that would surely be criticised by the majority Confucian nobleclass. 

In short, none of the women were suitable by Seonghwa’s standards. 

********

When Seonghwa relieved Yunho from duty, he was given a brief report. The Prince had bathed and then spent the rest of the morning in the garden house, playing melancholy music on the zither. Yunho was instructed to remain in the front room and not disturb the Prince. 

Seonghwa resumed his guard without greeting the Prince, as he usually would. He listened to the sad strings and felt the Prince’s sorrow. It felt like his own. 

When the music stopped, he slid open the door to the room and saw the Prince asleep under a soft, yellow blanket. It had been the Prince’s favourite blanket since he was a child. Seonghwa entered the room and sat quietly near the door. He watched over the sleeping Prince and tried to think of all the ways, the different things he could say, to express his penitence. But nothing seemed good enough, not even the most honoured, polite construction of the word sorry. 

The Prince awoke around dinner time. Without so much as a glance in Seonghwa’s direction, he returned to his room to dress. Seonghwa followed at subtle distance and stood outside the Prince’s chamber to wait for him. The Prince emerged looking particularly handsome in a regal red hanbok. His mother liked to see him wear the royal family’s colour. His face was cold, not in a harsh way, but in a way that illustrated his untouchable beauty. The one hundred smiles Seonghwa had seen last night, and even this morning, were untraceable. 

Seonghwa escorted him to dinner, listening intently as the Queen discussed plans for the three noblewomen to each visit the palace. The Prince barely spoke and barely ate. Instead he uttered one or two word responses to his mother’s questions, picked at his rice, and hid his face behind his wine. As soon as it was polite to take his leave, he returned to his chamber, with Seonghwa trailing behind him. 

“My Prince,” Seonghwa beseeched, as the Prince entered his bedchamber and began to slide the door shut behind him. “Please, may I have a moment?” 

Prince Hongjoong looked up at him. His face was emotionless. He didn’t speak a word. 

Seonghwa took a deep breath and entered the chamber. He bowed. “I am deeply sorry, for all pain I have caused. Please know that I never meant to bring you any harm. I am completely loyal to you, my Prince.” 

He wanted to say more, beg for the Prince’s forgiveness. But he worried that saying too much might lead to him saying the wrong thing. He wasn’t great with words, especially when his heart was lodged in his throat.

“Is that all?” Prince Hongjoong replied, turning to pull the chord of his summoning bell. "You’re dismissed."

“Dismissed? I can’t go before Mingi arrives. Please allow me to stay.” 

Prince Hongjoong smirked, sharp edges at the corners of his mouth. “Fine. Then you can watch.” 

The Prince brushed past Seonghwa and stood in the chamber’s main entryway. A staff person arrived and took the Prince’s quietly murmured order. Then the Prince returned to his bedchamber, his royal silk swishing against Seonghwa's cotton clothing. He began to untie his hanbok. 

“Let me assist,” Seonghwa said, moving closer to the Prince with his hands outstretched. 

The Prince waved him away and returned to unwinding his fastenings. Seonghwa stood next to the door. Though the Prince was still angry with him, he was at least permitted to be in the same room now. He took that as a sign of improvement. 

A few minutes later, the Prince was in a loose silk robe, relaxing on the divan with a book of poetry, when a short pattern of knocks tapped at the door. Seonghwa opened it to see Yeosang, standing there in a rich teal robe like some arrogant cuckoo bird. Yeosang strode into the room without greeting him and immediately made himself comfortable beside the Prince. 

Seonghwa felt his cheeks become warm. Quickly, he turned away to hide his face in the door, which, in his confused state, he’d left open, so he started to close it but then realised that he should be on the other side of it and slid it open again. Before he could step into the front chamber, he heard the Prince addressing him.

“You asked to stay, didn’t you?” 

He turned around to see Yeosang kissing the Prince’s neck. 

“So stay,” the Prince ordered. 

Seonghwa’s chest closed so tight that it felt like he couldn’t breathe. He slid the door shut and backed himself against the wall, shoulders heavy. His throat was dry but his palms were clammy. He pressed them against his thighs and willed himself to look away. But he couldn’t. Prince Hongjoong was staring at him with anger and determination. It hurt. But he would do anything the Prince asked, obey any order, if it would bring him closer to forgiveness.

He stood there, eyes wide open, while the sound of kissing filled the room. He held the Prince’s gaze as Yeosang trailed kisses down his neck and chest, before burying his head in the Prince’s lap. The sounds grew louder and more lascivious, as Yeosang sucked and moaned. It seemed to go on and on, yet the Prince never broke eye contact, not even when his lips parted and his breath staggered, as he finished in Yeosang’s mouth. Only then did he finally look away.

Seonghwa exhaled, a trembling sound.

“Does watching get you off, since you’re not getting any dick on your own?” Yeosang snarled at him, licking his lips and fingertips clean.

Suddenly, the Prince grabbed Yeosang’s chin with one hand and glared at him. “You may be pretty but your manners are hideous.” He released Yeosang's face and stood, wrapping his robe around himself. “This man is my Royal Guardian. You are nowhere close to his level. You are not even authorised to speak to him! Don’t you even dare cast your eyes upon him!” 

“I…I’m s…sorry, Prince,” Yeosang stuttered. 

“Get out!” Prince Hongjoong shouted. 

Yeosang clutched his robe around himself and scurried out of the room.

Seonghwa followed, watching to make sure he left the chamber and the corridor as well. When he returned to the Prince’s bedchamber, the Prince was curled up in a ball on his bed. He stood for a moment and watched, listening to the soft sniffles that floated in the air. His own heart ached at being the reason for the Prince's tears. He slid the door shut and kneeled down on a cushion in the the front chamber. With the back of his hand, he dabbed away his own tears. 


	5. Chapter 5

Seonghwa hit the training room early in the morning. His body resisted everything, chest burning as he ran laps around the room, thigh muscles shaking as he lunged across the mat, carving the air with a sword. Rain drilled down on the rooftop, further dampening his mood. He hadn’t slept much, head filled with thoughts of the Prince and his own self-disappointment. He felt sick to his stomach, when he remembered that morning by the creek, the cloudy sky and rotting trees. The look of utter despair on Prince Hongjoong’s delicate face.

Seonghwa hated himself for losing the Prince’s trust. He’d made a promise to protect the sweet, sensitive young man for life. And within just a few years, he’d managed to break that trust. Sneaking the Prince out, showing him a good time at the tavern, Seonghwa had thought that would be enough of an adventure and that the Prince would come to his senses about returning to the palace. How far could they expect to get without horses or supplies? If the Queen had realised Prince Hongjoong was gone, she would have dispatched the entire Royal Force and probably had Seonghwa imprisoned, or worse.

After training, he washed and went to the dining hall where he forced himself to choke down a few bites of food. He could barely eat, which wasn’t at all like him. Usually the Prince teased him about how many noodles he could stuff into his mouth or how many dumplings he could swallow in one sitting, clapping and cheering as he stuffed himself even more than usual, just to hear the Prince praise him for his healthy appetite.

The entire palace was in a mood, between the endless rain and the absence of Prince Hongjoong’s laughter ringing through the halls. There was no one Seonghwa could talk to. He wouldn’t risk rumours by sharing his thoughts with Yunho or Mingi, or anyone else. So he was left alone to criticise himself. He replayed the scene, again and again, looking for a way to appease the Prince and the Queen. But he was left restless and confused.

When he returned to the Prince’s chambers, to relieve Yungho from the watch, he was greeted with a brief report that stated the Prince was in a very foul mood and, if he didn’t already know it was true, the string of curses coming from the Prince’s bedchamber were another reminder. The Queen had summoned him for breakfast, which included details of the plans for the three noblewomen to visit the palace. The Queen wanted the visits completed before winter, so that the weather would cause no delay. This resulted in the three visits commencing in two weeks time and lasting for three consecutive weeks. According to Yunho’s report, the Prince had been despondent. Silent throughout the meal and retreating to his bedchambers, where he’d been ever since.

This was unlike the Prince. The only time he spent in his room was to sleep. Or entertain courtesans. Usually, he waited until the night watch to make his invitations. Yesterday’s tryst had been the first time he’d called upon a courtesan during Seonghwa’s watch. But now Seonghwa knew exactly what the Prince looked like while he was being pleasured. It was seared into his brain, the parting of plush lips, the staggered breaths, the way his eyes bore into him with such intensity.

Seonghwa shook off the memory. Between his feelings of immense failure and inability to sleep more than an hour last night, he was too exhausted to even think. His purpose was to keep watch over the Prince, so he chose to focus on his duty.

********

Prince Hongjoong declined lunch but roused for dinner, at his mother’s behest. He dressed himself in simple russet cotton and padded down the corridors, with Seonghwa trailing close by. They didn’t speak. The Prince wouldn’t even spare him a glance and pointedly ignored him, his tiny nose high in the air, when Seonghwa extended a greeting.

Dinner was a seafood soup. The Prince lazily stirred it while the Queen relayed news of sudden political developments. Two couriers had arrived late that afternoon with news of unrest in the south. Harvests were poor again this year and people were worried about not having enough to eat. Seonghwa wondered about his family. Though he spent nearly his entire salary on them, his mother, well known for her talent with food, would surely be feeding the entire neighbourhood. The Prince had already sent rice, when flooding washed away a large swath of crops. If there was not enough rice, the people would raise arms.

All the talk of famine and unrest made the Prince look even more uneasy. Seonghwa knew he would never let his people go without, if there was anything he could do. But the Queen ruled with steel, so worried about losing the throne that she neglected diplomacy and sent the military to deal with everything. As for the Prince, the _Crown Prince_ who’d spent the last twelve years being prepared for the throne, he was little more than a doll, dressed in silks, locked away in the palace, far from the people. That is, until the rice he'd sent to the south, unbeknownst to the Queen. And the expensive supply of paper he’d sent to the north last spring, that had also occurred without her permission. She’d been livid but the Prince was determined not to be a kept boy forever.

After dinner, the Prince returned to his chambers. He’d barely eaten all day, as far as Seonghwa knew, and he didn’t seem to have any interest in his usual delights, painting, playing music, making mischief. Instead he rang for staff, gave a few orders, and shut himself inside his bedchamber. Seonghwa remained in the front chamber, distracted, timidly trying to compose words that might convince the Prince to forgive him. The sickness he felt was unbearable. It was becoming so bad, that he wanted to crawl into his own bedchamber and sleep until the new year. But he’d never left a watch early, not even for illness. Perhaps if he’d eaten more than scraps all day, he wouldn’t feel so tremulous inside.

A patterned knock at the chamber door sent ice into his veins. He recognised it as the calling card of a certain palace courtesan. But when he opened the door, it wasn’t Yeosang. Instead it was another handsome courtesan, holding a tray set with a blue and white ceramic bottle of alcohol and two cups.

“Hi, I’m Jung Wooyoung. I’m here to see Prince Hongjoong,” the courtesan said, brightly.

Seonghwa’s eyes narrowed. He scoured the young man from the top of his head to his silky sky blue robe and matching slippers. “How come I’ve never seen you before?”

Wooyoung looked confused. “The Prince has never summoned me this early.”

“How long have you been in the palace?” Seonghwa drilled.

“Four weeks.”

“Where were you before?”

“In private employ. I trained at the estate of provincial administrator Lee.”

To Seonghwa’s knowledge, this was the same estate that had trained Yeosang as well. He kept files on all the courtesans who entertained the Prince and this Wooyoung wasn’t in his records. There weren’t many, considering the Prince’s fondness for Yeosang’s face. “Who do you know here?”

“Ah, I was invited on recommendation of my friend Kang Yeosang. We trained together. He was the prettiest of all, so of course he was selected first to meet the Prince. Are you his Royal Guardian? I heard you were really handsome, but words cannot compare to your eyes. Is it the light or do they always look this amazing? And your lips,” Wooyoung tilted his head slightly, “and that jaw,” he said, with a wink. “You should ring for me sometime. I’d love to show you what I can do.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. He had no patience for foolishness. “I am his Royal Guardian, Park Seonghwa. Before I allow you enter the Prince’s bedchambers, you must pour some of that liquid into a cup and drink.”

“I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you join us for a drink?” Wooyoung replied, grinning.

Seonghwa stared at him, unimpressed.

“Okay, okay.” Wooyoung held up the little bottle for Seonghwa to see and then poured a small amount of alcohol into a cup. He lifted the cup to his lips and swallowed. “See, it’s rice alcohol. That’s all.”

Seonghwa considered patting down his barely clasped robe, but he figured Wooyoung would enjoy that too much. So he let him pass. When the Prince opened the door to his bedchamber, their eyes met, but only for a second before the Prince looked away. Then he was pulling the courtesan inside by his robe and sliding the door shut.

For the next hour, Seonghwa pretended to ignore the loud noises coming from the Prince’s bedchamber. Wooyoung was an enthusiastic one. His high pitched voice grated Seonghwa’s ears. Actually, Seonghwa was surprised the Prince had requested him. Muscular didn’t seem to be the Prince’s preference. He usually requested slender Yeosang, who was everyone’s preference.

At least this time the Prince didn’t make him watch.

********

Seonghwa was grateful for his bed, when he finally had the opportunity to fall into it. Mingi had arrived late, something about the rain. After his noisy visitor left, the Prince’s room was silent for hours. Seonghwa wondered if he was okay, or maybe he’d worn himself out with all that exertion and had fallen asleep. He thought about checking on the Prince. There was a single panelled door separating his little room from the Prince’s bedchamber. It was there in case he needed immediate access for the Prince’s safety. Thankfully he hadn’t used it for that. The Prince used it more than he did, sometimes popping in to play a joke on him, or, waking him so they could sneak out of the palace together.

Sneaking out with the Prince had been more fun than Seonghwa cared to admit, even to himself. His mind drifted through memories of the Prince, clinging to him in the darkness of the alley and silently cheering for him from atop the palace wall. Seonghwa remembered his reddened cheeks and sparkling eyes as he drunkenly sang along with the tavern soldiers and kisaeng, poking and elbowing him to sing along too. He also recalled how peaceful the Prince looked, drowsy on his shoulder and asleep in his lap. Wrapped around him in bed that night, his body a warm and welcome contrast to the cold night air. Then his thoughts turned to the pained look on the Prince’s face, by the gingko trees near the quick flowing creek. Seonghwa wished he could toss himself into that creek and emerge back in his room, two days ago, when the Prince woke him, smiling radiantly in the darkness.

Though he was drained in every way, he still couldn’t sleep. So he lit a candle and fetched a book, some paper, ink, and a pen. He wasn’t good with words, not by speaking, nor writing. So he hoped that a poem could speak for him. There was one he read often, about a night bright with moonlight, just like the night they’d slipped from the palace. In it, the poet lamented their loneliness, wishing for comfort in green meadows and the stars. It reminded him of running across the green field, hand in hand, as the Prince’s laughter echoed behind them and the stars glittered along their path ahead. So he copied the poem, painstakingly, in nearly perfect script, as his neck and back ached for him to rest. When he finished, he fanned the ink to help it dry and then folded the paper in three parts. He tied it with a bit of pink ribbon and fastened two dried daisies in the middle of the knot. The ribbon and dried flowers were from his collection of writing supplies. He enjoyed calligraphy and sometimes copied poems he liked. He also wrote letters to his family. This was the first time he’d written something for Prince Hongjoong.

He kneeled by the door, separating his room from the Prince’s, and slid the packet underneath, tapping gently until it fully disappeared. He hoped the Prince would receive it well and that he wouldn’t wake to find it back on his side of the door, or in the ashes of the fire in the great hall. Then he crawled back into bed and fell fast asleep.

********

In the morning, there was more news of trouble in the south. The people were demanding that the Queen do something to address their concerns. The Seo clan, one of the most prominent families in the south, were demanding a response. Seonghwa heard all of this while he drank tea and nibbled at rice cakes in the guard’s dining hall. He didn’t often take breakfast there, but he was after information. He wanted to know how serious this unrest was and whether he should worry about his family. It sounded like the fear of famine was pretty serious and the Queen had better get her mind off of bridal parties and look out for her people.

When Seonghwa returned to the Prince’s chambers, Yunho and the Prince were gone and his letter hadn’t been shoved back underneath the door. He could only hope that meant the Prince had accepted it. And a little hope was more than he had yesterday.

He spent some time training and then took a long bath and had a massage. After, he drank tea with Master Choi. The old scholar had heard that the Seo clan was threatening roadblocks, which would prevent precious wares from reaching the capital. Seonghwa was growing more worried for his family, so before he took his watch, he sat down in the library and wrote his mother a letter. He hoped that the palace couriers would be able to reach her.

The Prince was painting in the garden house when Seonghwa began his watch. It was raining again and the garden house provided a bit of respite from the tension in the main palace. According to Yunho, he was in a silent mood and Seonghwa figured that was better than the angry mood of the day before. The garden house was calm and fragrant with flowers. It felt almost peaceful, despite the tension between him and the Prince. He gave the Prince space, staying in the waiting room at the front of the house, while the Prince painted, and enjoyed the quiet.

The entire palace was busy with staff bustling about, gossiping and making preparations. The ministers of the Royal Council had convened in a closed chamber since early in the morning, debating about what to do with the southern situation and the Seo clan’s demands. It all sounded like something of which the Crown Prince should have been apprised. Yet by the Queen’s own orders, he was not to be consulted.

The Prince painted until it was time to dress for dinner. When he emerged from his garden room, into the small area adjacent to the terrace, where Seonghwa patiently remained, their eyes locked and held for a moment. Seonghwa panicked, wondering if the Prince would say anything about his letter, or if he should inquire whether the Prince received it well. But then the moment passed and the Prince was stepping out into the rain. Seonghwa hurriedly grabbed the bamboo and oil paper umbrella he’d brought and dashed after the the Prince.

“My Prince, be careful, please,” he called, using his height and long stride to quickly catch up to the little Prince. He held the umbrella over the Prince’s head and linked their arms together.

Prince Hongjoong glanced up at him, but didn't pull away.

“The stones are slippery,” he added.

“Thank you,” the Prince responded, "and thank you for the poem.”

“Thank you for receiving it,” Seonghwa replied, with a soft smile.

The Prince looked away. Seonghwa wanted to say more but couldn't. He didn't want to ruin the minor peace unfolding between them.

They walked the rest of the way back to the main palace in quiet, listening to the sound of the rain.

The Prince dressed for dinner in honey coloured silk. It was an outfit that Seonghwa hadn’t seen before. He looked resplendent. Seonghwa couldn’t stop staring. His eyes followed the golden Prince as he sailed through the corridors and into the dining hall and kept watching as he spooned small bites of rice and vegetables into his mouth. He longed for the days when the Prince would notice him. Usually Prince Hongjoong rolled his eyes when he spotted Seonghwa watching, but then he’d follow with a little smile or laugh. But tonight, the Prince’s attention was fully on the conversation he was having with the Queen.

“So the Council hasn’t reached an agreement on a course of action and your concern is whether the roadblocks will impact the supply of seafood and silks for the noblewomen’s visits,” Prince Hongjoong suddenly interjected. “While our people worry they might starve.”

The Queen was complaining about what headaches the southern troubles were causing and how she needed this situation to be cleared up before winter, so the Council had better devise a plan swiftly. She put her spoon down with a clatter and regarded her son with a cool expression. “There is more to the situation than you understand. I’d like you to focus on the upcoming visits. Have you finished reading the histories of the noblewomen and their families? You should know something about them before they arrive.”

“I don’t care,” Prince Hongjoong replied. “Our people need help. We should do something!”

“The Council will handle it. What you need to do is marry well and continue this family.” Queen Hyori sipped her wine, obviously annoyed with her son’s newfound interest in politics.

“And what happens when I’m King? Do I wave at crowds on holidays and sit around waiting for the Royal Council to make all my decisions? Is that what father did?”

“Enough,” the Queen snapped. “One mistake was all it took. Just one. So I won’t have you making rash decisions and risking your life, like he did!”

“What life?!” Prince Hongjoong shouted.

“Lower your voice,” the Queen hissed.

“Let me go to the south! I’ll lead caravans of supplies, show the people we care and that we will not leave them to starve.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Why?” Prince Hongjoong leaned forward, elbows planted on the table, hands fisted together. “You can’t keep me locked up in here for much longer. Someday I will be King and I will rule as I see fit.”

“As long as you give me a few sons first,” the Queen retorted.

The Prince scoffed. “Do you hear yourself? Give you sons? You had two sons of your own. I may be bound by the throne to have children, but they will be _my_ children and I will not keep them trapped in this...this...tomb.”

He rose from his seat. “I will marry some woman I don’t love. I will bring children into this family. I will worry about wars and famines, disasters and betrayals. But I will be a King who listens to his people.”

The Queen watched him for a long moment, eyes sharp. Finally, she said, “As Crown Prince and appointed heir to the throne, do you truly believe this to be the best course of action?”

“I do,” Prince Hongjoong replied.

She clapped her hands together. “Then give the orders for the preparations."


	6. Chapter 6

Seonghwa slept through the whole night, though he didn’t rest easy. He tossed and turned but at least he managed to stay in bed until dawn. When he opened his eyes, he saw that his letter hadn’t been returned. Of course, this could mean that the Prince hadn’t seen it yet or had already stamped it to pieces in the rain. 

It was raining again as he rose early to train and eat a big meal before taking a horse out and riding into the capital. His aunt, who travelled around on hunts and winning archery competitions, had taught him to pay attention to what people were saying over tea or alcohol. Though the rumours may not necessarily be true, they reflected the people’s attitudes and sometimes their beliefs. Staying in the palace limited what news he would hear and how it would be filtered. Though the palace writers were instructed to make unbiased reports, they always reported in favour of the Queen. 

For this reason, Seonghwa dressed in a simple, yellow, cotton hanbok rather than his usual uniform. He wanted to blend in with the locals. By the time he set off for the capital, the morning drizzle had subsided and there was sun peeking out from behind the clouds. He wandered around the market, selecting supplies that he would need for the journey. The Prince may have been mad at him but he was still his Royal Guardian and would stay close by his side throughout the trip. This was the taste of adventure the Prince had been seeking. Seonghwa hoped it would help them move past any lingering mistrust. He was eager to show the Prince that he would never let him down again. 

Three different tea shops all circulated the same story, with different variations on the details. The situation in the south was dire. Losing two major rice harvests would surely mean starvation for many people. Plus the Japanese had been encroaching upon the fishing waters of the southern shore again. And the Queen wasn’t as concerned about the south as she was about marrying off her son, in order to have grandchildren and keep the throne in the family, which was just her way of keeping herself in power. Instead of crowning the ten year old Prince when the King and Crown Prince died, she held him captive in the palace and ruled with steel and taxation. The Prince himself was well loved for his fabled beauty and kindness. The people were rooting for him to overcome the triple tragedy of having lost his father and brother, and being born to such a careless mother.

By the time Seonghwa had to return to the palace to take his watch, he was more certain than ever that the Prince was doing the right thing. He took another pass through the market, looking for something that might lift the Prince’s spirits and show that he was genuinely sorry for the pain he’d caused. But what could a Prince possibly need or want? A bouquet of flowers? New paints? Books? A hat for the road? He treated himself to a sweet roll filled with walnuts and persimmons as he perused. 

With just one bite left he saw it, something beautiful and colourful and just perfect for the Prince. He knew it as soon as he spotted it from the corner of his eye. He wiped his hands and looked around for a seller. The deal was quick and easy and soon he was tucking the little gift into his coat and riding back to the palace. 

The Prince was in the garden house, making plans for the journey south. The Royal Council had received his order well and all preparations were underway. The Queen had ordered a planning meeting that evening to finalise the details. This was the report Yunho gave before returning to his own chamber to prepare for travel. 

When Seonghwa entered the main room, the Prince was seated at a low table. His face looked small and serious as he pored over maps, surely memorising all roads that meandered around the south. He looked up when Seonghwa walked in and for a long while they just stared at each other. 

“My Prince,” Seonghwa finally broke the silence. “There are many things to discuss. And I realise you are busy preparing for travel, but I brought you a gift.” 

Prince Hongjoong watched him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted. 

“Please know that I regret my mistake and remain completely committed to you, on this journey and in life.” Seonghwa made a few strides closer. “I chose this gift because I care, not only about what you need, but what you desire. With this gift, I wish you many, many years of happiness.” 

Seonghwa opened the outer layer of his hanbok to reveal a soft, orange kitten sleeping inside. 

“Oh!” Prince Hongjoong jumped to his feet, bounding over to Seonghwa. “It’s so cute!” He reached out a finger to stroke the kitten’s fur. It blinked sleepily at him. 

Seonghwa smiled. “You like it?”

Prince Hongjoong grinned. “I love it!” He tossed his arms around Seonghwa’s neck, in a big hug, nestling the kitten between their chests. “Thank you! Thank you so much!” The Prince repeated, leaving one arm looped around Seonghwa, while the other withdrew to pet the tiny cat. 

It mewled and the Prince laughed. “Hello Beautiful,” he whispered. “What shall I call you?”

“Hwaseong,” Seonghwa suggested with a playful smile. 

The Prince scowled. “Why would I name it after you?” Then he smiled as the kitten climbed into his outstretched palm. He held it with both hands, one supporting its body and the other gently rubbing its ears and head. “Would you like to be called Hwaseong? Or Prince Hongjoong the Second?”

Seonghwa burst into laughter. “It’s definitely Hwaseong.”

The Prince looked up at him and back to the kitten. Then he held the kitten up to his face and smiled. “We look more alike. I’m a tiger, you’re a bird. That’s not even in the cat family.”

Seonghwa’s shoulders were shaking as he continued to laugh. “But Hwaseong means Mars and they’re almost the same colour.” 

The palace observatory had been a special passion of the late King. He used to take his sons there, teach them about the movements of the stars and how to use the various observation tools. Charting the stars was considered to have long standing significance in the fates and fortunes of the royal family. So the King wanted his sons to learn how to read them. Prince Hongjoong still visited the observatory from time to time. He’d even shown Seonghwa how to observe the skies and what to look for. That was when he began calling him Hwaseong.

The Prince seemed to be considering it for a while. Finally, he nodded. “Okay.” 

They smiled at each other.

********

The Prince remained in the garden house, where he could spend time with his new kitten while finalising details of the journey. He ordered his meals to the garden house, as well as meat and fresh water for Hwaseong, and a little basin of sand. Seonghwa helped him prepare, going over security procedures, roads and alternate routes, detailing the landscape as much as possible for the sheltered Prince. 

On the road, knowledge of the land was everything. Prince Hongjoong may have understood the skies, but he’d spent little time climbing mountains and traversing rivers. Seonghwa gave the instructions for what clothing and personal items to pack. The Prince gave orders for the wagons of rice and yams and tea. They worked so smoothly together, that it almost seemed like they hadn’t just spent the last few days on unstable ground. 

It was after dark when the Queen summoned them both to the Great Hall. She was seated near the fireplace, sipping wine. All preparations had proceeded smoothly, under Prince Hongjoong’s orders. Even the Queen had to admit that he’d worked hard and done well. 

“You know I don’t agree with you leaving at a time like this,” Queen Hyori stated. “But you are appointed as King and it is past time that you exercise your rights as King.” 

“I will do my best for Joseon,” Prince Hongjoong replied.

The Queen shifted her gaze to Seonghwa. “And you, are you prepared to protect him on this journey, at all costs?”

“That I am, Queen.” Seonghwa bowed. “I am from the south and I know the roads well. Prince Hongjoong is safe with me.” 

The Queen’s face bore no expression. She simply raised her wine to her lips and dismissed them. 

As they walked across dark pathways, back to the garden house, Seonghwa felt unsettled. It seemed unusual for the Queen to allow Prince Hongjoong to act. He’d planned and arranged everything without interference from her. The only role she played was to send couriers south with a message of the Prince’s impending arrival with food and supplies. It was the Prince’s first solo diplomatic delegation and she hadn’t tried to control everything. 

Prince Hongjoong kept working late into the night, reading about the land and people and important events in the south. Seonghwa marvelled at the duality of how the idle-Prince-trapped-in-the-palace was full of mischief, but the Crown-Prince-heir-apparent-to-the-throne was dedicated, focused, and sincere. Little Hwaseong climbed all over them both, but clearly preferred the Prince’s lap, or pocket, or hood of his garment. 

“Seonghwa,” the Prince said, after a long stretch of quiet study. “Do you think he’s gonna miss me while I’m gone?”

“Hwaseong?” Seonghwa chuckled. 

Prince Hongjoong nodded as he gazed down at the kitten, petting its fluffy orange fur.

“Yes, I think so. I think…he loves you already.” 

The Prince whispered something under his breath that Seonghwa couldn’t quiet hear. 

When Mingi arrived for the night watch, he brought a message from the Queen. Seonghwa was being summoned to her chamber. The Queen had never addressed him alone before. In fact, she’d barely spoken to him at all in the years he’d been at the palace. 

The Prince looked concerned and made Seonghwa promise to return to the garden house. He thought it was best that Seonghwa spend the night there, with him. After all, there were still plans to rehearse. Seonghwa assured him that he would return. But also said that the Prince should get some rest, as the road tends to make the body weary. 

Seonghwa made his way back to the palace and wound through dark corridors to the Queen’s chambers. Her Royal Guardian greeted him sternly, but let him into the Queen’s drawing room without further explanation. The Queen was still dressed, in vibrant apple red, as she had been when she’d spoken with Seonghwa and the Prince earlier.

“Park Seonghwa,” she said, gesturing to the pillow across the table from her. “Have a seat.” 

Seonghwa sat. “Yes, Queen. How may I be of service?” 

“It has come to my attention that you are very close to my son.” 

“I am his Royal Guardian,” he replied. 

“That you are,” she said, eying him carefully. “But I hear you’re something more than that.”

Seonghwa was confused. His eyes darted back and forth across the table. What was the Queen insinuating?

“I’ll admit, I had doubts about Hongjoong selecting such a handsome, young man to be his Royal Guardian. Especially given his…ah…proclivities. To be quite frank, we all did. Sure you passed all your examinations with high marks, but you were neither the top score nor the most experienced. Naturally, people assumed it was your face that caught his attention.”

Seonghwa’s heart was pounding in his ears. He knew there had been rumours, at first, but he figured those had faded away long ago. He’d earned his place at the Prince’s side. 

“I’m told that my son holds you in high esteem, above anyone else in the palace. And that he’s scorned audiences for you.”

“What? No, that’s not true. I have vowed my life for the Prince. I watch over him, that is all.” 

“Is it?” Queen Hyori smirked. “Are you trying to convince me? Or yourself?”

Seonghwa was speechless.

“Speaking of vows, that’s correct. You are a Royal Guardian. Your fidelity is to the throne. And Hongjoong’s successful marriage is what’s best for the throne. Am I being clear?”

“Yes, Queen.” 

“If you do, indeed, have extra _influence_ over him, I expect that you’ll use it to help him make the right decisions. Do you understand?”

Seonghwa wasn’t sure he did, but he nodded anyway. 

“As for this foolish little journey, it shouldn’t cause too much hardship. I’ve instructed the caravan to separate at Gyeryongsan. He may spend a day or two enjoying the fresh mountain air, but these cold November nights will prove to be too much for him. Have him back within the week,” the Queen said. “That is all.”

  
As he made his way back through the maze of palace corridors, Seonghwa was fuming. He should have known that the Queen would never let Prince Hongjoong go so easily. She was undermining his expedition and she’d commanded Seonghwa to play along. But his loyalty was to Prince Hongjoong, not the throne. This time, he would do what the Prince wanted. 

Before returning to the garden house, Seonghwa decided to take a detour which would lead him to dimly lit quarters. His body pulsed with anger and tension. There was only one person he could think of, foolish enough to start _this_ rumour, and that was a snake-eyed palace courtesan. Seonghwa threw the door to the courtesan quarters open and marched inside. He scanned the room for Yeosang, but found a gaggle of beauties, of all genders, flirting and gossiping. This was why taking up with kisaeng, or their higher priced version, courtesans, was dangerous. They had no loyalty and their rumours could cut like knives.

“Yeosang, where is he?” Seonghwa demanded of a doe eyed, round faced man, who didn’t look like a courtesan, at first glance, but had the honeyed voice of a very experienced one.

“Did he miss your appointment? Don’t worry, handsome, Yonghwan will take care of you,” he smiled, extending both hands to Seonghwa. “Not why don’t you relax and join me for a drink?”

“Watch out,” another voice said, “he’s the Prince’s Royal Guardian. The one who lost me my favour with the Prince.”

Seonghwa turned to see Yeosang strolling into the room, wearing a thin black robe. So that’s what this was about. Prince Hongjoong hadn’t invited him back. 

“He’s so high and mighty, us lowly courtesans aren’t even allowed to speak to him,” Yeosang snarled. “Jealous Hongjoong will have you banished for so much as feasting your eyes on him." He stopped, one hand on his hip, and glared at Seonghwa. Would be a shame for the entire palace to find out about…” 

In one quick stride, Seonghwa’s hand was wrapped around Yeosang’s neck, pinning him to the wall. Yeosang choked and feebly attempted to bat Seonghwa’s hand away. Seonghwa switched his grip, so that his forearm was pressing into Yeosang’s throat and his other hand was adding pressure to it. Courtesans scattered in the commotion and some cheered as Yeosang gasped for air.

“Say what you will about me. Spread you’re vicious little rumours,” Seonghwa said darkly, glaring down at Yeosang. “But if you so much as think an unsavoury thought about the Prince, I will know and I will find you, in the dark of the night, and I will put you into a chest of rice, and no one will even care that you’re gone.”

“What’s all this?” a voice said, followed by a yawn. It was Jiyong, the head courtesan. “Seonghwa, please. Let him go. You’re hurting my purse.” 

Seonghwa shoved his arm into Yeosang’s neck once more, for emphasis, and then released him. He shoved his hair back from his face. “Keep your boys under control,” Seonghwa snapped. “This one has been speaking about things that don’t concern him, spreading rumours, using poor manners with the Prince. I thought you trained them better than that.”

Jiyong looked at Yeosang with disgust. “I do train them better than that. But some choose to put pride before a payout.” He scoffed. “Leave him to me, I’ll take care of this.” 

A round of murmurs circled the room, as courtesans side-eyed Yeosang and made snide comments.

“And one more thing,” Seonghwa said, chest still heaving with rage. “No one entertains the Prince without first being cleared by me.”

“Of course, understood,” Jiyong agreed. “It seems that while I was looking after my sick husband, things started slipping around here. I’ll put a stop to it, don’t you worry.” 

Seonghwa glanced at Yeosang again and though he ached to see him bloodied, he chose to turn around and walk away. A slurry of sultry looks and whispers followed. 

_That was so sexy. Where has he been hiding? He can throw me up against a wall anytime._

********

The Prince was still awake when Seonghwa returned to the garden house. Mingi had been given instructions for taking care of Hwaseong in the Prince’s absence, including the activity log that the Prince insisted he maintain so that he wouldn’t miss too much of the kitten’s growth. The Prince was in his bedclothes, reading instead of resting. 

“My Prince, please get some rest,” Seonghwa said, kneeling by the Prince’s side. “It’s late and you need your energy for the road tomorrow.” 

“You smell like cold,” the Prince replied. 

Seonghwa had taken the long route to the garden house. He wanted to discharge his anger, instead of bringing it back to Prince Hongjoong. “Do you dislike it?” he asked.

“No,” the Prince answered. “There are extra bedclothes over there,” he pointed to a painted wooden chest. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”

“Yes, my Prince,” Seonghwa nodded. “I’ll stay.” 

“Good,” the Prince smiled. “I want to hear about the south.” 

Seonghwa washed his hands and face and teeth and changed his clothes behind a folding screen. The Prince was sprawled across the bed, with Hwaseong napping on his chest.

Seonghwa sat down on a pillow beside the bed. 

“You can lay here,” the Prince patted the bed beside him. 

Seonghwa remembered the Queen’s words and Yeosang’s rumour. “I should find another bedroll before I get too sleepy.” 

“It’s okay, I don’t mind. There’s plenty of room.”

Seonghwa hesitated. What if someone came in and saw them? Sharing a bed together wasn’t a huge concern, but now that half the palace probably thought they were…

“Seonghwa, why are you being so weird? I’m not mad at you anymore, I’m not going to bite,” the Prince giggled, pressing his lips closed before he could say more. He held his arm out and pulled Seonghwa’s sleeve. 

“I trust you, my Prince.” He climbed onto the bed and stretched out next to Prince Hongjoong. It felt so good to be close to him again. 

Prince Hongjoong smiled. “My sword and my shield,” he said, softly. 

They gazed at each other. Then Hwaseong stretched and they both giggled. 

“Tell me about the south, about where you’re from,” the Prince sighed.

“Okay,” Seonghwa replied. “I’m from an ancient city in the far south. And every October we have the most beautiful lantern festival.” 


	7. Chapter 7

_My Prince looks lovely in his travel garments_ , Seonghwa thought as Prince Hongjoong emerged from the Palace to board the caravan. He wore blue, in the same shade as the great sky above, a contrast from the royal family’s signature scarlet. Seonghwa hoped he’d be warm enough without his heavy winter cloak. Though it was only November and they were headed to the south, the Prince had only known the weather around the Royal Palace and the Summer Palace by the sea, both of which were well heated. Nights on the road could be colder than expected and it wouldn’t do to have the Prince fall ill from exposure. He’d personally made sure there were adequate stocks of medicine and extra blankets. 

It was a clear, cold day, good for travel. The supply wagons were loaded and ready. All they were waiting for was the Prince himself. Seonghwa knew he was taking his time saying goodbye to the kitten. They’d been inseparable and the Prince had pouted over leaving him in the care of Yunho and Mingi. It was this softness that Seonghwa most admired in the Prince. Rather than growing up a spoiled fool or a sly tyrant, Prince Hongjoong was bright, confident, and had a heart for his people. But his softness was also what made the Queen doubt him. She wanted a strong ruler, to keep the throne in the family, and she saw herself as most fit for the job. So she purposefully delayed the Prince’s coronation, which allowed her to act as regent, a role she was unlikely to relinquish, once the Prince was crowned King.

Seonghwa waited at the door of the Prince’s coach and watched as he bade farewell to his mother. The Queen’s eyes were hard as she watched her only child walk away. Seonghwa could feel the ice in her stare. But the chill waned as Prince Hongjoong appeared before him, wearing a warm smile. 

“Are we ready?” Prince Hongjoong asked.

“Yes, all preparations are set. We depart at your command, my Prince.” Seonghwa bowed, an unnecessary flourish, but with Yeosang’s rumours spreading like overgrown vines, he felt it best to maintain the appearance of the utmost propriety. Especially since the Queen was watching.

A fleeting look of bewilderment crossed the Prince’s face. “Thank you,” he said. 

“It is my duty,” Seonghwa replied. 

They looked at each other for a long moment before the Prince spoke again. 

“Seonghwa…even though I was angry with you, I’m not any longer. I believe that you meant me no harm. I trust you. To follow me as your leader and to take good care of me.”

“You have my deepest vow in that, my Prince,” Seonghwa’s words were quiet, but he meant them as much as if he’d shouted them from a mountaintop. 

The Prince smiled. “Good, let us travel safely together and bring relief to the people.” 

Seonghwa opened the coach door and extended a hand to help the Prince climb inside. He ducked his head and followed, singling the driver to proceed. The front gates opened and the horses began to walk. Palace staff waved as they passed, wishing the Prince well. 

With the palace behind them, Prince Hongjoong turned to Seonghwa with a mischievous smile and said, “now our real adventure begins!”

********

  
  
As the caravan travelled through the countryside, Prince Hongjoong marvelled at the view. Cloud capped mountains, lush forests, sprawling meadows, the beauty of Joseon as far as the eye could see. He reminded Seonghwa of a child, pointing out flowers and trees, birds and animals, by name, excited as if seeing them for the first time. It wasn’t the Prince’s first time out of the palace, when the King was alive, he’d take both of his sons out for day trips. But Hongjoong had been quite young then, so he didn’t remember much about hunting and fishing. He remembered picking apples and chasing squirrels, and the time his brother painted his face with smashed berries, staining his face and teeth and tongue purple, his fingers and even parts of his shirt too. Their father found it to be funny, but their mother was mad when they returned to the palace. 

Seonghwa couldn’t help smiling as he listened to the Prince’s stories. He’d only seen the child Prince once, but it was from a close enough distance that he could see the main features of his tiny face, the full cheeks and sharp nose. But he couldn’t see his eyes and the sadness that surely resided there. Even though they were the same age, Seonghwa had wanted to protect the little Prince, who’d just lost his father and brother, more than anything. He still did. So while he enjoyed hearing the Prince prattle on about any and every thing, he also kept an ear on the road. 

The royal convoy was well guarded, swordsmen and archers on horseback flanked them from every angle. Scouts had ridden ahead, to ensure that the roads were clear and to report any dangers they found. By Prince Hongjoong’s orders, Yunho and Mingi stayed back at the palace, guarding the royal kitten, so Seonghwa was on duty all day and all night. He would eat, sleep, and bathe with the Prince. Which was scarcely a burden. 

When they reached the crest of land that would be their encampment for the night, Seonghwa had to wake the Prince from slumbering on his shoulder. He helped the Prince out of the coach and walked with him to the edge of the wood, so they could both relieve themselves. Then they took a stroll around the perimeter of the encampment, while the soldiers raised the tents and prepared the evening meal. 

They retired to the Prince’s tent around sundown, to eat and go over the plans for the next day. Two trunks stood near the entrance below hanging oil burning lamps. There was a bedroll atop a thick mat and a smaller mat beside it, both piled with blankets. Candles decorated a low wooden table. A small fire burned in a cast bronze brazier. A skirted table sat nearby, where Seonghwa and the Prince were seated to take their evening meal.

The Prince ate well, if lightly, consuming half the amount of rice and stew that Seonghwa ate. 

“My Prince, is the food not to your liking?” Seonghwa asked.

“It’s fine,” the Prince replied, smiling weakly. The road had clearly tired him, though they’d done little more than walk and ride in the caravan. 

“You should eat more. You need your strength for the road,” Seonghwa chided, gently. 

The Prince slid his unfinished bowls across the table to Seonghwa. “You go ahead. You need it more than me.” 

Seonghwa looked at the food and back to the Prince. “Please eat.”

Prince Hongjoong shook his head. “I ate. You think I don’t know that my portion was double what anyone else received? That I’m unaware I eat better than anyone outside the palace? I’ve never known hunger. Yet we’re riding south because the people are afraid they won’t have enough food to last the winter. I will not feast while my people starve!”

Seonghwa was touched by the Prince’s sentiment. It was so heartfelt and so spirited. He wished the Queen could see what an incredible leader her son would be, no, already was. He searched for words to express what was on his mind and in his heart, but he struggled to find them. Something about the Prince often made him go tongue tied. Perhaps it was because he wasn’t as well educated as the Prince, he wasn’t from a family of scholars, so he was not eloquent in his speech. He expressed himself best through his actions.

Seonghwa picked up his spoon and dug into the bowl of stew. 

“You eat a lot,” Prince Hongjoong said.

Seonghwa choked on nervous laughter. 

The Prince smiled. “I like that.” He pushed the rice bowl closer to Seonghwa. “Everyone should have enough food. Not just me and those overstuffed advisors on the Royal Council. When I’m King, I’ll make sure of that.”

Seonghwa chewed and swallowed. “You already are. The people will be heartened to see you and receive the supplies.”

The Prince scoffed. “Would you say otherwise?”

Seonghwa frowned. “What do you mean?”

The Prince raised an eyebrow. “We’re outside of the palace. There are no spies here. Would you tell me if you didn’t think I was ready to be King?” 

“I would,” Seonghwa confirmed without needing to consider the thought. 

“Then how would I know your words were sincere? And not just something you say because it is your duty to serve me?” the Prince countered. 

Seonghwa put down his spoon and looked at the Prince solemnly. “Honesty can be deadly in the palace. But my words and actions are always sincere with you, my Prince. Even when you don’t agree with me. Even when you get angry with me,” he said, alluding to the recent discord between them. “I chose you.” 

The Prince’s eyes widened. 

Seonghwa felt his cheeks warm. He wasn’t saying the right thing. “I mean, this duty was my choice. I applied to the Royal Guard and you selected me as your Guardian. And I hope you that you never regret it.” He lowered his gaze to the rice and shovelled a spoonful into his mouth. 

“I can always have you killed and replaced,” the Prince quipped.

This time Seonghwa’s eyes grew wide. His mouth gaped as he stared at the Prince, whose face was plastered with a mischievous grin. 

“Hurry up and eat,” the Prince giggled. “I wanna play Hwatu.”

********

A clear, beautiful morning greeted them the next day, the scent of white pine needles and wood smoke in the air. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, and the Prince was in a good mood. When Seonghwa woke, the Prince was enjoying a cup of tea as he perused maps of the surrounding area. Seonghwa mumbled a sleepy greeting as he rose from his mat and stepped outside to relieve himself. 

When he returned, the Prince was inquiring about the availability of fresh, warm water for bathing. A soldier from the Royal Guard laughed and told the Prince that he would have to wait until they reached an inn, for warm washing and other such services. He could bathe in the river, like the soldiers did. The Prince wrinkled his nose and asked if the water was very cold this time of year. The soldier laughed and said that it was, but that cold water shock was unlikely if he moved slowly.

The Prince seemed to be contemplating the discomfort of cold river water versus the discomfort of going unbathed, as Seonghwa took his tea. Glancing at the map on the table, Seonghwa noticed a few markings that indicated warm springs in this area. He traced one, with his finger, back to their encampment, and estimated it would take around twenty minutes to reach by foot. It was a bit of a climb, but they could easily make it. 

He mentioned the idea to the Prince and laughed as his face illuminated with joy. They finished their tea and Seonghwa packed a satchel with essential supplies, grabbed his sword, and set off for the climb up to the mountain hot spring. The Prince chattered, as usual, asking questions about Seonghwa’s life in the south, before he came to the palace. 

When they reached the spring, both men paused to take in the view. Jutting out from a cliff, were two intensely blue pools, splayed one above the other, overlooking an expansive wash of trees, whose autumn leaves shone green, red, and gold. The sky was clear, dotted with a few puffy clouds in the distance.

The Prince looked happier than Seonghwa had ever seen him, outside of their night at the tavern. 

“So beautiful,” the Prince murmured, his voice gently dissolving their long silence. 

“Mmm,” Seonghwa agreed, smiling down at him. 

Prince Hongjoong loosened his hair from its plait, ruffling his hands through it as it tumbled down his back. Seonghwa had seen him with his hair free before, but this was the first time it hit him that the style of it would soon change. Once he was married, the Prince would wear a topknot. 

As an unmarried man and member of the Royal Guard, Seonghwa wore his own hair braided and wound beneath a hat. This style would never change, not as long as he was bound by duty to serve the Prince. Though there was no rule explicitly forbidding Royal Guardians from marriage, Seonghwa just knew that it wasn’t meant for him. He was already where he wanted to be. 

They began to remove their clothes, trying not to shiver in the crisp air. Though he’d seen the Prince in the royal bath many times, something felt different seeing him out here, amidst the radiant leaves of fall, the sun casting its soft, golden glow on his skin. His chest was well defined, which was unexpected in someone so slight, and when he turned to remove his trousers, the curve of his ass made Seonghwa blush. 

It wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before, only the setting was different. Maybe it was the seclusion of the woods, away from the palace’s prying eyes and ears, that altered the atmosphere between them, from courtly deference, to earthly delight. Seonghwa scolded himself for the distraction and hastily shed his own trousers, then followed the Prince into the upper pool. 

Prince Hongjoong leaned his arms back, against the rim of rocks, and watched as Seonghwa slipped into the warm water. 

“The line of your body looks nice,” the Prince commented. 

“Ah, really,” Seonghwa replied, sinking down until the water reached his neck. The Prince had never made such a comment in the royal baths. Perhaps the atmosphere felt different for him too. 

“Yeah, when I see you without clothes, you look nice.”

Seonghwa chuckled, embarrased. “I want to build more muscle.”

The Prince shook his head. “You don’t need to do that. You’re fine just the way you are.”

Seonghwa glided closer to the Prince, as was his habit, then realised he should, perhaps, give the Prince some space to bathe. 

They washed themselves, including their hair, and then the Prince decided he wanted to try the waters of the lower pool, so he climbed out, darting across slippery rocks, leaving Seonghwa to scramble after him, warning him to be careful not to fall and hurt himself. 

The lower pool was less shallow, reaching Seonghwa’s collarbones, which meant that the little Prince was nearly submerged. He swam over to offer his arm, to help keep him afloat, but Prince Hongjoong just splashed him and swirled away, swimming towards what looked to be a cave. Seonghwa reacted quickly, slicing through the water with long strides until he was able to block the Prince from entering, by backing him into a large smooth rock. 

“Why…” Prince Hongjoong sputtered, as Seonghwa wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, ducking his shoulder beneath the Prince’s right arm. Their chests were almost pressed together and their foreheads were nearly touching, but the Prince didn’t complain. 

“Please, my Prince. Let me guide you inside,” Seonghwa said. 

The Prince’s face was dappled with water droplets and his hair floated behind him like elegant seaweed. He looked so natural, like a boy who’d been raised dipping in mountain pools and feasting on wild berries. His Princely beauty, powdered and rouged in the palace, was untraceable. What remained in this born state, was something even better. Big, curious eyes and plush, pink lips. Seonghwa’s chest felt tight and he wondered if he’d been in the heat of the water too long. 

“Lead the way,” Prince Hongjoong replied. 

Seonghwa turned so that the Prince could hold onto his shoulders with both hands and then cautiously swam into the cave. The pool was shallower in there, with no signs of danger. The cave itself was very small, providing shelter from the sun or rain perhaps, or maybe from intruders, but without the majestic view of the mountains above and valley below, there was no reason to linger. 

The Prince released his grip and spun around, splashing Seonghwa. They shoved water back and forth, laughing and darting in and out of the cave like friendly fish. Then they floated for a while, necks supported by mossy stones at the pool’s edge, as they gazed at the sky. 

“Is this what it’s like back home?” Prince Hongjoong asked.

“What do you mean?” Seonghwa stole a glance at him. The Prince’s profile reminded him of a fox, though he knew he would rather be compared to a tiger. 

“Free to roam, wander the woods, go where you want to go.” 

Seonghwa thought about it for a moment and said, “yes, but there are many worries too. Such as food and work. At home, military service is the only option for a lot of men to keep their families fed. I would have been a common soldier if I didn’t make it into the Royal Guard. Back home they think I’m the luckiest guy, to get to live in the palace. And they’re right. I get to serve you, my Prince.” 

Prince Hongjoong flicked his hand, splashing a tiny wave of water onto Seonghwa’s face. Seonghwa stood up and returned the gesture with a massive wave he shoved over the fleeing Prince’s head. The Prince’s laughter echoed across the mountains. 

********

They returned to the encampment to board the caravan and continue the journey. By Seonghwa’s readings, they should reach Gyeryongsan the following day, just before nightfall, if there were no delays. As they rode, he consulted the maps, wondering which of the many valleys the Queen would choose to split the caravan and circle the Prince back towards the palace. There were so many that he couldn’t possible deduce the most likely location, so he traced and retraced paths, running strategies in his brain. The Prince dozed off and on, wearing soft green garments with gold trim, in the style of the royal family. His hair was plaited once again and a circular cap kept his head warm. A beige travelling blanket was wrapped across his lap, a small effort he made to keep the Prince cozy. 

The next encampment was on a windy stretch of grassland between two mountain ranges. Snow had yet to fall, so they’d left the heaviest, bulkiest of winter supplies behind. It was cold, even in the Prince’s tent with a fire burning in the brazier. 

Seonghwa shivered on his mat, until the Prince lifted his blanket and beckoned him to crawl inside. They curled their bodies together, much like the night the spent at the tavern inn. But unlike that night, they desperately craved each other’s heat. It made his heart race and his blood pump to parts that he hadn’t used with another person in a very long time. He angled his hips away, but the Prince just nuzzled closer, hands pressed to his back like a lover. He tried to will the feeling to leave, but the need was strong. If they were back at the palace, he could have satisfied it alone in his room, as he did every night. Out here, there was no distance between them. His mind began to flood with visions of the Prince bathing in the spring and his body was alight with qi. He flexed his thigh and ab muscles, attempting to move blood to other places. But then the Prince told him to stop twitching and go to sleep. So he practiced breathing slowly and calmly, thinking of the rest he needed, and listening to the howling wind.

When Seonghwa woke the next morning, the Prince was nestled under his chin and a soldier of the Royal Guard was standing in the entryway. He jolted, pushing himself away from the Prince and rising, with a blanket wrapped around him for warmth, and personal privacy. He didn’t need the Prince nor the soldier privy to the fact that his traitorous body was, once again, in the same condition it had been when he’d joined the Prince in bed. 

“It’s raining. There may be icy patches on the road. We should get moving, so that we travel with the sun,” the soldier announced, unwilling to make eye contact with the flushed Royal Guardian in the Prince’s bed. His silent judgement lingered heavily in the air. 

“Yes, of course. We will prepare immediately,” Seonghwa replied.

The soldier abruptly turned and exited the tent. 

Seonghwa sighed, willing his mind and body to cooperate. Then he knelt beside the sleeping Prince and said, “wake up, my Prince. The weather is not fair today. We must get on the road so that we can arrive at Gyeryongsan before nightfall.” 

The Prince stirred and smacked Seonghwa with a blanket covered arm. 

“You can sleep in the coach, so, come on, get up!” Seonghwa insisted. 

Prince Hongjoong stirred again, stretched his arms, and sat up, blinking slowly. “The sound of the rain falling on the tent is nice,” he said.

“It’s not going to be so nice if it causes icy patches on the road, so move. We have to go!”

Prince Hongjoong stuck his tongue out and rolled over. 

Seonghwa huffed in frustration. “Please get up!”

“Make me!” Prince Hongjoong replied, defiant. 

Without another word, Seonghwa stood, ripping the blankets away from the Prince, and arching to his full height to hold them overhead. 

The Prince’s eyes went wide and he clasped a hand over his mouth, stifling a giggle. 

Glancing down, Seonghwa could see that the entire outline of his semi-hard self was visible through the fabric of his bedclothes. His face reddened immediately, heat spreading along his ears and down his neck. He dropped the pile of blankets on the bed and turned away. His heart was pounding in his head. 

Though he’d seen the Prince in this same condition, he was uncomfortable with the Prince seeing him this way. What if he thought that he was the cause? And that Seonghwa had crossed an unspoken line? Of course, there was no cause. These things just happened. Sometimes a man’s body betrayed him. The Prince should understand that, he was, after all, a man. But he was a Prince, raised with impeccable grace, and Seonghwa was a commoner, undeserving of the Prince’s company. He worked hard to control his mind and his body, to make sure that he never allowed himself to feel anything. Duty was what mattered most, far above his carnal desires.

Seonghwa dressed hurriedly and donned his sword. “We’re leaving in fifteen minutes. Have yourself ready,” he said roughly, not bothering to hide his dialect. He’d never spoken to the Prince in such a way before and he regretted it the moment the words left his lips. He’d already shown himself to be a low person. The Prince would surely see that he was unworthy of a place by his side. 

He stepped into the rainy morning, steeped in humiliation, hat slung downward over his eyes and tried not to let anyone see the tears that were welling there. 


	8. Chapter 8

Though it was raining, Seonghwa chose to travel solo by horseback. He couldn’t face the Prince just yet. It was best if he focused on the road. The Queen had planned to re-route the convoy and he wanted to be prepared for any diversion. He’d contemplated whether to tell the Prince or whether to handle her orders in a more indirect way. It would do no good for the Prince to openly defy the Queen, so he thought it best to feign innocence about her plans and subvert them through other means. 

The roads split at Gongju, with the main road carving east towards their destination, Daegu. They would pass through riverlands, which were likely to flood if the rain continued. It would be safer to continue south, around Gyeryongsan, and take the road through Nonsan. If the Prince gave the order, based on Seonghwa’s recommendation for his safety, the Royal Guard could not defy him, without exposing the existence of the Queen’s ulterior plans. 

When the convoy stopped to rest, Seonghwa suppressed his emotions and sloshed through the mud to knock on the door of the Prince’s coach. 

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you riding with me?” Prince Hongjoong demanded, as Seonghwa stepped inside. 

Seonghwa sat on the bench opposite the Prince. “I was worried about the road conditions, so I wanted to keep an eye on them,” he replied. It was a partial truth.

Prince Hongjoong sighed. “If you’re embarrassed about this morning…”

“That had nothing to do with you,” Seonghwa interjected. “In the morning, sometimes, these things happen. I won’t be bothersome to you again. I’ll sleep on my own mat from now on.”

The Prince frowned. His eyes were big and sad. 

“There’s something important I must discuss with you,” Seonghwa continued, leaving out the affectionate appellation - _my Prince -_ in favour of distant, polite speech. “If the rains carry on, we’ll run into flooding at the riverlands, just east of Gyeryongsan. Therefore, it is my recommendation that we proceed on this road, south of the mountain and then take the highland road through Nonsan.”

Prince Hongjoong considered his words. “Will it take much longer?”

“No more than a day, m…Your Royal Highness. But it will be considerably safer.” 

The Prince nodded. “I shall give the order at once.”

The convoy took a hasty lunch under the cover of thicket of oak trees. Then the Prince announced that, for the safety of themselves and the supplies, they would be following the road south, instead of veering east through the riverlands. Seonghwa watched for signs of dismay amongst the Royal Guard, but detected nothing. The Prince was well-liked and willingly obeyed, so if the Queen had spies amongst them, then they were well hidden. 

Seonghwa returned to his horse, a beautiful black mare, but before he could approach her to mount, a hand tugged at his elbow. It was the Prince, holding several rice balls wrapped in bamboo leaves. The remains of his lunch, most likely. Before Seonghwa could say a word, the Prince shoved them into his pockets and ran away, splashing through puddles.

The convoy continued their journey south, past the turnoff for Gongju. When they reached the river, the stinging rain was unrelenting. The bridge was slick but not too dangerous, so they crossed carefully and by sundown, they had found the edge of a white birch forest where they could set up camp. The skinny trees looked eerie with their skeletal branches, in the shadow of the mountain, under stormy clouds. But as the rain broke and the moon rose high in the hazy purple sky, a sense of calm fell over the land. The trees glimmered, their reflections shining on a nearby lake. 

The earth was soft, fragrant but not too moist to pitch the tents. The soldiers worked quickly, preparing the camp and the evening meal. Seonghwa had no tent of his own and no place amongst the rest of the soldiers. He would have to face the Prince for another night, and then another, and then many more before they returned to the palace. The sooner he could recover his sense of duty, the better. 

But first he wanted information. He posted four soldiers at the Prince’s tent, instead of two, and made his way around the camp, listening to conversations, taking his evening meal, and sharing wine. Nobody spoke of the Queen or had any complaints about the change of path. It was widely agreed upon that the riverlands were likely to flood. 

Seonghwa settled by a fire with three men, who were all around ten years his senior, drinking more wine than he probably should have. The conversation turned the palace courtesans and how they longed for a visit with their favourites. He wondered if the Prince longed for Yeosang, or maybe Wooyoung. 

“Jiyong was the best,” Joon said with a grin. “It’s a shame he got married and took himself off the market. Thought he probably makes more money now, running the whole business.” 

“His husband must have made a decent amount of coin in his day,” Kihyun added.

“Seunghyun was never in the business. He’s from a wealthy family of artists and scholars. His father was a high ranking soldier. Rumor has it that his aunt was the King’s first choice in marriage,” Kibum told them, adding more wine to each of their cups.

Seonghwa almost resisted the wine but figured it would help drown the remaining pangs of humiliation he felt. 

“Really!” Kihyun exclaimed. “The must have been very upset when he married a courtesan.” 

“I heard he lost everything,” Kibum replied. 

“How about that Yeosang?” Joon sucked his tongue. “What a face. Too bad the Prince keeps him on reserve. 

“Not anymore,” Kibum said. “There’s talk that he angered the Prince, so he’s been dismissed from the Prince’s favour. Which means he’s available.” 

Kibum said that last part in a sing-song voice that Seonghwa found distasteful. He took a swig of wine and tried not to show his annoyance. He didn’t need anyone knowing that the mere mention of Yeosang made his skin crawl. The thought of that treacherous snake laying lips and hands all over the Prince was torture. 

Kibum peered at Seonghwa. “So…is it true? You’re close to the Prince, you must know what happened.” 

Seonghwa didn’t like the way he said the word close. It implied something. Yeosang’s rumour had even reached the Royal Guard, it seemed. A lie that was all the more believable, since the same rumour had circulated when the Prince first chose him as Royal Guardian. An untruth that everyone seemed to believe. 

“I don’t follow rumours,” Seonghwa replied flatly, tossing back his wine in one long swallow. His head buzzed and his body felt heavy with sleep. 

“But you share his bed,” Kihyun teased. “That’s not a rumour.” 

Seonghwa clenched his jaw. He didn’t want to have to defend himself to them. But he would defend the Prince, no matter what. “Its not what you’re insinuating.”

“Prince Hongjoong is my type,” Joon added. “Those eyes, those lips…I’d love to give him a strong, thick soldier in his bed at night.” He pumped his hips and laughed.

“That’s the _Prince_ you’re talking about,” Seonghwa spat. He knew that soldiers talked crudely amongst themselves. He’d been in plenty of training camps and taverns where this talk was common. But he wouldn’t sit idly by and let these men speak of the Prince in such a way. 

“Jealous?” Kibum laughed. “Come on, you can tell us. ”

“You and Prince Hongjoong seem more than friendly,” Kihyun added. 

“I am bound by duty to his service,” Seonghwa snarled. “That is all. I have taken a vow, an oath to protect him. It would do you lot well to cease your chatter and remember your fealty to His Royal Highness.”

Something snapped nearby and the soldiers sat upright, with their hands on their weapons. Seonghwa saw a small figure dart between shadows and heard footsteps skittering over wet leaves, tossed about by a cold breeze. Seonghwa rose and with his hand on the hilt of his sword, he followed. 

The figure scurried towards the trees, but the moonlight was so bright that Seonghwa could easily make out his identity. 

“Prince Hongjoong!” he whispered loudly. “Stop! Its not safe for you to enter the woods alone!”

The Prince stopped short of the lake and turned to face Seonghwa, his fists on his hips and his small face scrunched up in anger. “Don’t follow me!” he hissed.

“You know I can’t let you go!” Seonghwa insisted. He was close enough now to grab the Prince if he tried to flee. 

“Oh right, it’s your _duty_ ,” the Prince said, snidely. “You follow me everywhere because it’s your job. Work you’re very well compensated for. You may be from the countryside, but your family will never go without. They will always be well taken care of. Thanks to your job.” 

So the Prince overheard what he said. Seonghwa’s chest ached and he was a little drunk. He had no confidence in his ability to say the right thing. “Let’s go back to your tent and talk, please.” 

“Talk?” Prince Hongjoong glared at him. “What’s there to talk about. You said it all. We’re not friends.” He turned and stalked away towards the woods. 

Seonghwa jogged after him. “Wait,” he grabbed the Prince’s arm. “Please don’t misunderstand what I said to those soldiers.” 

“Misunderstand? How am I to misunderstand? You said what you said. This is a job. So I will treat you no different from the staff, starting right now.” 

The Prince’s cheeks were flushed in the pale light of the moon. 

_He looks so cute when he’s angry_ , Seonghwa thought. Then he chided himself for it. “My Prince, please,” he pleaded. “I just wanted to put them in their place. They were saying things...things they shouldn’t be saying about you.” 

Prince Hongjoong’s flush deepened. “What kind of things?” he cocked his head back, haughty. 

“Nothing treasonous. Just…things men say amongst men.” 

“And…you were…defending me?” 

“Of course, it’s my…” Seonghwa paused. “My honour to protect yours.” 

Prince Hongjoong scowled. “It’s your responsibility. We’re not friends…or….or anything else. I’m a Prince. There’s no one that actually cares for me, unless they’re paid.”

Maybe it was the wine or maybe it was his stupidity, but Seonghwa spoke again. “That’s not true,” he insisted, reaching down to tug the sleeve of the Prince’s coat. Instead he found the Prince’s fingers, small and slender and barely peeking out from the cuff. He silently cautioned himself against being so brazen, but they were far away from palace whispers. He wound their fingers together, ignoring the warning bells in his brain. His heart thumped with the words he wanted to share with the Prince, words that would certainly be too confusing or not eloquent enough. “When I said that guarding you was my duty and that is all, what I meant was that this vow is my all. It means everything to me. You give my life purpose. I have no want for other things because my desire is to stay by your side, until my last breath.” 

A sad smile appeared on the Prince’s lips. “We both have a duty and a purpose.” He looked up at Seonghwa. “Mine is to be what the country needs me to be. Whatever that is. Who I am, what I want, none of that matters.”

“What would you like to be?” Seonghwa asked, sliding his thumb across the Prince’s knuckles.

“I told you,” the Prince replied, his eyes gleaming. “A tiger hunter.” 

Seonghwa laughed. “I think you’d be a better bard.” 

Prince Hongjoong smiled, affectionately this time, and shyly diverted his gaze to the ground. 

“Singing with you at the tavern was fun. I’ve never seen you so happy and free, except maybe at the hot spring and these days we’ve spent out here.”

The Prince laughed, his sweet little laugh that Seonghwa liked so much, but it wasn’t the only sound in the forest. The unmistakable vibration of horn and sinew cut through the quiet night. 

On instinct, Seonghwa lunged, wrapping the Prince into his chest and slamming them both down to the ground. Prince Hongjoong choked, as the air sharply left his body, forced out by the sudden pressure of Seonghwa’s body on top of his. An arrow thwacked the wet, fragrant earth beside them, slick with blood. 

Seonghwa fisted his hands in fabric covering the Prince’s chest, mentally calculating the risk of what he would do next. He counted down the seconds until another arrow followed. A good archer would land an arrow in his back. A great archer would land an arrow in Prince Hongjoong’s. 

He rolled sharply to the right, wincing as his shoulder crashed into rocky soil, as he heaved the Prince’s body over his own, tumbling them both down the hill to the lake’s bank and into the sandy reeds below. 

An arrow struck the shore. They were out of range, but just barely and not for long. It seemed that there was only one archer, but his sword wouldn’t do much to defend against a ranged attack. All he had was his body to be the Prince’s shield. 

He could feel the Prince tense, his heart pounding, beneath him. “Don’t speak, my Prince,” he whispered, looking into his wide, fearful eyes. 

Prince Hongjoong’s lips trembled but he remained silent. Tears welled in his eyes, sliding down his cheeks. He pressed his hands gently yet firmly to the torn cloth covering Seonghwa’s left ribs, trying to slow the bleeding. 

“Trust me,” Seonghwa whispered. 

The Prince nodded, drawing a slow, deep breath to release the tension from his muscles. 

Seonghwa turned onto his left side, gritting his teeth from the pain, determined to keep his body between the Prince and their assailant. Whatever intoxication he’d felt was gone, leaving the pure rush of fire and spirit. He drew his tinder pouch from inside his coat, then flattened himself on his stomach. He worked quickly, drawing the ties to reveal the contents, flint, steel, charcloth, and straw. He found a dry patch of sand, beneath the overhang where the the grassy slope abruptly stopped a metre above the lake. He held the flint and bit of charcloth together and struck it with the small wand of carbon steel. He pursed his lips and blew gently, nudging the spark to catch the cloth. He blew again, grabbing the straw bundle and packing it around the ember. He’d built hundreds of fires just like this, but he didn’t have much time before their attacker came within range, or the rain returned.  
  
Prince Hongjoong flinched as an arrow stabbed the ridge above their heads and soil crumbled around them. 

Seonghwa continued with stronger puffs of air, as smoke began to emerge from the bundle, and a tiny flame appeared. He set the fire onto dry sand and drew his sword. Quickly, he shed his coat and sliced into the shoulder seam of his shirt with the sword’s tip. Prince Hongjoong grabbed the cut sleeve and tore it away. Seonghwa reached for a nearby stone, about the size of the Prince’s fist, and shoved it inside the sleeve and tied off the ends.

For this next part, it was too dangerous to work without sight. So he crouched in the reeds and poked his head above the ridge. He lined up his vision, moving his arms like he was drawing an imaginary bow. Then he pierced one end of the sleeve with his sword and dipped the other into the flame. The cloth caught immediately, the fire growing as it consumed the dry cotton. 

Seonghwa arched into position and sprang up, firing the burning cannonball towards the encampment. He watched it sail over a tent, then dropped back down to his knees, crouched and waiting. Prince Hongjoong covered his shoulders with his coat, but Seonghwa couldn’t focus on the cold, or the searing pain in his side. He needed to hear the soldiers rise. 

And rise they did, shouting and forming to secure the perimeter of the encampment. Seonghwa breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed into the sand. A lone archer couldn’t take on the Prince’s Royal Guard.

“My Prince, are you alright?” he asked. The Prince’s face was streaked with tears and a smudge of dirt on his right cheek. 

“You’re hurt,” Prince Hongjoong said, face crumpling as his eyes fell on the bloodstained section of Seonghwa’s shirt. His own hands were red from holding Seonghwa’s wound.

“It’s nothing. What about you? Anything sore?” He sat up, leaning back against the ridge, eyes wandered all over the Prince’s body, looking for injuries. 

“You’re bleeding!” Prince Hongjoong exclaimed, his lower lip quivering. “Don’t say it’s nothing!” 

“I’ll be fine,” Seonghwa insisted. Pinprick tears stung his eyes, but he blinked them away, refusing to let the Prince see his pain. “You’re safe. That’s the important thing. The soldiers should be securing the camp. I’ll put double the guard on tonight. Let’s get you back to your tent.”

“Seonghwa…” Prince Hongjoong reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and running his thumb over his knuckles. “Thank you.” 

  
********

Seonghwa managed to call the attention of two soldiers passing nearby. They walked him and Prince Hongjoong back to the encampment and into the tent of the medical officer, where their wounds were washed and treated. The Prince’s wounds were very minor, a few scrapes, and a small reddish bruise on his upper cheekbone. Seonghwa wondered how it got there and if he’d somehow given it to him in the fray. He didn’t know why but it was all he could think about, as the medic cleaned and patched his injury. The evidence of his error was slashed across his body, but for some reason what hurt most was the mark on the Prince’s perfect face. 

He’d managed to protect the Prince, in their first major trial. But he should have been more aware of their surroundings. Someone had to be watching them. The encampment was not luxurious, but it was clearly royal. How or why someone had found them, or followed them, and wanted the Prince dead was going to eat him alive, if he didn’t find something to focus on. So that focus became the face of the Prince himself, who was seated by his his side, holding his hand.

Seonghwa was too depleted to listen to whatever else the medic said. He’d drank some medicine that made him feel sleepy. Though he’d insisted he could walk back to the Prince’s tent, his legs wouldn’t hold him, so a few soldiers had to carry him to his mat. 

The Prince gave orders for fresh water, tea, and tangerines. He removed Seonghwa’s muddy clothes and boots and dressed him in bedclothes, insisting that he sleep in his bed. It was warm with a fire in the brazier and the Prince curled up beside him. He could almost imagine that they were home. In a little house overlooking the seashore. With a garden and a path leading down to the water. There would be books and a big supply of paper and paints, pens and inks. A zither and a lute. And a little cat. 

“Are you warm enough?” Prince Hongjoong asked, tucking another blanket over Seonghwa’s chest. 

“Yes,” Seonghwa sighed, his voice deep and thick with sleep. He wouldn’t be awake for much longer. He wasn’t sure if he’d been awake this whole time, or drifting in and out of sleep. So he wanted to say something before he couldn’t say anything. He raised his arm from beneath the blankets and sought Prince Hongjoong’s hand. “Thank you.” 


	9. Chapter 9

  
The rains returned and lasted long into the night. Not that Seonghwa heard a thing. He slept soundly, unperturbed by pain or by the Prince dozing by his side. It was already late morning when he woke. That’s what Prince Hongjoong told him. The convoy was stalled, allowing him to rest from his injury before continuing the journey. 

Seonghwa felt awful. Not because of the scratch in his side. That was merely a thin, surface level cut. What made him feel heavy hearted was the fact that he’d let the Prince down. Because of him, the journey would take longer. And the days weren’t getting any warmer. Though his injury wasn’t deep, it still stung when he rotated from side to side, which meant that he wasn’t at his most agile. He needed all of his strength, agility, and energy to guard the Prince, especially now, when there was an assassin roaming around. 

The Royal Guard had scoured the immediate area, but the archer must have retreated to the mountain because they found nobody in the woods or the surrounding area. If the convoy continued, the archer could still follow them, and might even be ahead of them on the road, setting a trap. It was prudent to stay another day, but Seonghwa couldn’t help feeling like he was at fault. If he’d only been sharper, well prepared, he would have reacted more quickly, or brought the Prince back to the camp immediately, instead of bantering with him at the lake’s edge. 

Seonghwa had let his emotions interfere with his reason. He’d become easily distracted by the Prince and if that continued, he feared he would make an even bigger mistake. So he gathered his clothes, politely declining the Prince’s offers for help, and left the tent. It was a crisp, clear day. The spindly white trees of the birch forest looked far less menacing than they had the night before, when the cover of darkness hid whatever dangers lurked amongst them. He took his time washing up and changing his bandage, scolding himself deeply. Common men were beholden to their bodies, their lustful drives, and the waves of emotion that accompanied affection. He was a Royal Guardian. Though that didn’t make him impervious to desire, he had a duty to rise above it. 

Besides, what good would it do to prove the palace rumours true. People would always doubt the Prince’s judgement, assuming he’d selected Seonghwa for his face. And he would always be looked at like one of the Prince’s courtesans. Not that the Prince would even have him, when he already had his pick of the palace’s prettiest boys. In any case, the Prince would be married soon, to a woman of wealth and high status, who would bear him children. Seonghwa had nothing to offer. Only his vow. 

Seonghwa shook his head, wishing that distracting thoughts would stop clouding his mind. He was young and unmarried and spent all his time with the Prince. Of course certain feelings would arise. The important thing was to let them go. Perhaps, when they returned, he should visit with a palace courtesan. It might help dispel the rumours.

Rather than take his meal with the Prince, Seonghwa ate by the fire near the lead guard’s tent so he could inquire about the day’s plans. All the guard knew was that Prince had not yet decided on a course of action, other than they would wait until his Royal Guardian was healed. This was not good, Seonghwa knew. The guard would perceive him as weak and too influential on the Prince, especially since Yeosang’s rumour had even followed them here. He would have to convince the Prince to carryon with the journey. 

He ate two bowls of rice porridge and some fried smelt, fresh from the lake. After breakfast he talked with the medic, having already forgotten whatever the medic had told him last night. Then he was summoned to the Prince’s tent. 

“Yes, my Prince?” Seonghwa asked, stepping inside the entryway. He took a few steps closer to where the Prince was standing by the fire, expecting to be briefed with travel plans and assigned to tracking their assailant. His fingertips longed to pluck the string of a bow and send an arrow straight to the heart of whosoever had made an attempt on the Prince’s life. He was even better with a bow than a sword and going without one, as he often did within the palace, was a mistake he wouldn’t make again. 

“Why are you up? You’re supposed to be resting?” Prince Hongjoong said, dismayed. 

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. “Resting? We have work to do. I’m not resting until I find the person that attacked us last night!” 

Prince Hongjoong sighed. “The Guard can do that. You need to rest.” 

“I’m fine!” Seonghwa insisted.

“You’re hurt!” Prince Hongjoong replied.

“It’s a scratch. I’ve endured worse.”

Prince Hongjoong jabbed at Seonghwa’s left ribs.

“Ahhh,” Seonghwa winced, doubling over in pain. “What was that?”

“You’re not fine. You’re hurt. The medic recommended you rest, give your,” he rolled his eyes,” _scratch_ some time to heal.”

“My Prince, this isn’t the palace. We don’t have time to rest in comfort. We have to find this archer and bring them to justice! An assault on the Crown Prince shall not go unpunished!”

A cloud of uncertainty passed over the Prince’s eyes.

“I don’t mean to frighten you.” Seonghwa put a hand on the Prince’s shoulder and squeezed, a gesture which could get him chastised in the palace. “Besides, the supplies still have to make it south and if we wait too long, we may run into snow on the way back.” 

“Thank you for your advising, but we’re staying.” Prince Hongjoong’s lips trembled as he stared up at Seonghwa. “I need you…you’re the only one I can trust. So rest, please, for just one day.”

Seonghwa lowered his head. “As you wish, my Prince.”

********

At the Prince’s insistence, Seonghwa spent the day in bed. He took medicine and drank tea and ate plenty, to regain his strength. And he pretended to doze, while watching the Prince pore over maps, plotting what he would do next. By mid-day, he’d devised a plan and called the lead guard, Yushin, as well as Seonghwa, to discuss it with him. 

The convoy would continue south, delivering the supplies as expected. Only he would not be with them. He wrote a letter, lamenting that due to the rains, he could not be there in person to greet them and share a feast of rice and yams and the fish that the southerners were so skilled at catching. 

Instead of travelling south, the Prince would remain at Gyeryongsan with his Royal Guardian. They would keep two horses, some medical supplies, and plain clothes, while they waited for the convoy to return. There was an inn at the base of the mountain, where they would rest. Whether the assailant was following them or had ridden ahead to set a trap, they would find no Prince, only soldiers and supplies. 

Seonghwa and Yushin exchanged glances. It was hardly a strategy that the Royal Guard would endorse. Beyond the diplomatic aide journey, this was the Prince’s first major decision. It would weigh heavily upon his future as King, should he succeed or fail.

“Your Royal Highness! Disguising you and leaving you behind with a wounded Guardian? There must be a better way!” Yushin insisted, in his blunt tone.

“If there is, I’m listening,” the Prince replied. He looked calm, confident even. 

Yushin sighed but offered no alternative. 

“My Prince,” Seonghwa spoke softly yet firmly, “I trust you. So I will follow your decision.” 

He meant what he said. Prince Hongjoong was the only one of them who had come up with a plan. The playful Prince, who pranced around the palace making mischief, was showing himself to be a wise and worthy King. Seonghwa wished that the Queen would open her eyes and see him as the leader he truly was. 

Yushin appeared reluctant, but agreed. “If this is what your Royal Highness wishes, it will be done. Wait for us at the inn. It should take no more than three days to return for you. If we do not return by the end of the third day, you two should head back to the palace on your own. Hopefully, we will lead the assailant away from you and into a trap of our own. The men are thirsty for justice. No one makes an attempt on your Royal Highness and lives to tell the tale.”

Prince Hongjoong clapped his hands together. “Alright, we will rest the remainder of the day and make preparations to move tonight. Seonghwa and I will go to the inn. If the assailant follows us, we will be ready. Proceed with the journey at dawn. We shouldn’t wait too long to deliver the supplies.” Prince Hongjoong produced a sealed letter from inside his coat and handed it to Yushin. When you arrive, I’d like you to read my letter to the people personally.” 

“Of course, your Royal Highness.” Yushin accepted the letter, bowed, and exited the tent. 

“Seonghwa,” the Prince said, “I want you to rest. I will pack whatever supplies we need for the trip to the inn.” 

“At least allow me to help.”

The Prince smirked. “You can help me by taking off your clothes.” 

Seonghwa gasped, a huff of air that surprised him. A fierce blush spread from his neck to his face.

“Don’t worry,” Prince Hongjoong giggled. “I’m not going to scandalise you. I know how sensitive you are to the palace whispers.” He gestured towards the bed. “Please rest.” He giggled again. “That is all.” 

Embarrassed by his own reaction, Seonghwa obeyed quietly. He changed back into bedclothes, silently chiding himself. What else could the Prince have possibly meant? And why did those words cause such a fiery reaction in his brain? There was nothing significant about undressing in front of the Prince. They had been nude together many times, in the royal bath, at the hot spring. He’d even seen the Prince…

Now that was a thought Seonghwa didn’t want to retain. Yeosang’s head in the Prince’s lap was seared into his memory. The sheer fact that the Prince was a sexual being didn’t bother him. The courtesan had visited the Prince’s chambers often, along with a few others. Seonghwa could live with that knowledge. He just didn’t want to see the Prince with anyone. 

Resting in bed, watching the Prince pack, left room for many irresponsible thoughts to float around in Seonghwa’s head. Maybe it was the medicine he’d been given but he couldn’t stop himself. He considered the Prince’s upcoming marriage, what the women were like, and which one the Prince would choose. He wondered if the Prince would find them pretty and whether the Prince even liked women. He’d never invited a lady courtesan to his chambers. 

A marriage was an alliance. It had little to do with love. Poems and songs mused about love as though it could happen to anyone. But for some people, that was just false hope. Duty, to family and country, was more important. Having enough rice to eat was a more pressing concern for most people. Even the Prince, though his life may have seemed frivolous at times, was not allowed such luxury. 

Seonghwa drifted in and out of sleep. When Prince Hongjoong woke him, he was ravenous and it was after dark. The Prince knelt beside the bed, dressed in a simple, beige hooded cloak and plain, blue cotton clothes. His hair was styled in the fashion of common men but he was still more handsome than any common man. He brought Seonghwa a bowl of chicken stew and a bowl of rice. As Seonghwa ate, he delivered instructions for how they were to proceed.

“Call me by my name. No matter what. We’re commoners now.” 

“Yes, m…Hongjoong,” Seonghwa replied, testing how the Prince’s simple name felt on his lips. The feeling was strange. It seemed as though he was speaking of a young man, a brat, who teased him and ran away from him, but who could also melt him with a sunny smile.

“If anyone asks, we’re wanderers travelling across the countryside. With your southern accent and my capital accent, it’s probably best if we keep it vague.”

“I have an accent?” Seonghwa blurted. He’d worked hard on neutralising his speech. It surprised him that the Prince identified him that way.

Prince Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Yes, it’s very charming. Especially when you first came to the palace. You sounded scary.”

“Scary?” Seonghwa’s eyebrows flew up. “Like a tiger hunter?”

Prince Hongjoong cracked a smile. “Exactly. And I am your apprentice.” 

“Apprentice? But we’re the same age.” 

“You’re older though.”

“But we’re the same age.”

“But you’re older.” 

“You’re the Prince.”

“Not for the next few days. I’m just Hongjoong. And you’re my hyung.”

“But we’re the same age!” Seonghwa insisted.

Prince Hongjoong looked at him with playful exasperation. “Fine, we’re friends.” 

Seonghwa smiled, bashfully. He liked that. Friends.

*********

The plan was for Seonghwa and the Prince to ride to the inn, under the cover of darkness. If someone was tracking them, it would be difficult to land a clear shot, on a moving target, on a cloudy night. If they were followed, they would be armed with swords, bows, and daggers. The Prince would remain within arm’s reach at all times. 

They rode to the inn without trouble. Upon arrival, they purchased a room, unloaded their supplies, and made their way to the tavern for drinks and conversation. This was Prince Hongjoong’s idea. He wanted to talk to the locals and to those just passing through. If the assailant was among them, he would find out. 

Talking wasn’t a skill that came naturally to Seonghwa. But it did to the Prince. So it was no surprise that he collected informants as easily as he drew a crowd from the palace stage. He spoke with soldiers, kisaeng, and rain delayed travellers. Seonghwa scoured the room. There were no archers. 

There was, however, someone who seemed to have taken a strong interest in the Prince. He’d joined their table without being invited, though the Prince had given him a bright smile from across the room. He was handsome, well-built, and probably a bandit. Seonghwa disliked him immediately. 

“And that is why my father named me San,” the bandit said, flashing a dimpled smile at the Prince. Seonghwa could tell by the sound of his words that they were from the same region.

“Wow, so you were destined to be strong,” Prince Hongjoong cooed. 

Seonghwa wrinkled his nose. Was the Prince flirting with this guy? A common roadside bandit who wasn’t even wearing a hat? 

San continued to smile, cheeks reddening, and flexed his bicep. “You can touch it, if you like.”

Aghast, Seonghwa’s hands curled into fists and he had to force himself not to reach for the hilt of his sword, or the dagger strapped to his leg. That a drunken bandit would be so brazen with the Crown Prince sent a spark of anger rising in him. 

“You must have a very nice, muscular body,” Prince Hongjoong said, running his fingers over San’s shoulder and along his arm and hand. He smiled sweetly.

Seonghwa frowned into his tea. The Prince had said something similar, about his slender frame. What was the truth? Did he enjoy complimenting men just to see their reactions?

“I’d be happy to show it to you.” San grinned.

Seonghwa slammed his empty cup on the table. “Your manner of speaking is far too bold,” he growled, using southern dialect that the Prince wouldn’t understand. 

San looked surprised. “My apologies. I thought…” He glanced between Seonghwa and the Prince. “I didn’t realise,” he muttered in dialect. Abruptly, he stood up. “How about another round of drinks? I’ll buy!” He offered, returning to standard speech. Then he turned and walked away.

“What was that?” Prince Hongjoong asked. “I was getting somewhere with him.”

 _Where? Into his bed?_ Seonghwa thought. He flattened his lips into a line and turned his head away from the Prince. He didn’t like the way he was feeling. And he didn’t want to say something he’d regret.

“Seonghwa!” Prince Hongjoong insisted. “Why aren’t you answering me?”

“I’m sorry, my…Hongjoong. I forgot we’re supposed to be friends.”

Prince Hongjoong put a hand on Seonghwa’s arm. The same hand that had caressed San’s muscles. “Don’t be so overprotective. Let me make my moves.” 

Seonghwa scoffed. “Is this really the right time?”

“If you’re tired, you can go to bed.”

“And leave you alone with him?!” 

“One-on-one is better than two-on-one. Don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?”

“What are _you_ talking about?”

Seonghwa and the Prince stared at each other.

“Oh!” Prince Hongjoong exclaimed. He started to giggle and covered his mouth with his hand. “Seonghwa, please.” He giggled some more. 

“You’re laughing at me,” Seonghwa pouted. 

“No, well, yes.” Prince Hongjoong said between puffs of laughter. “I was sweet talking him for information. Did you seriously think I was going to seduce him?” 

“You said you liked his body,” Seonghwa whined. 

The Prince laughed and poked Seonghwa’s cheek. “I like yours better.”

San returned with a small bottle of soju and three cups. “There’s no better way to start a friendship, than with drinks!” He spread the cups on the table and filled them. 

Though Seonghwa was in no mood to drink, he picked up a cup and set it in front of the Prince. Then he selected a second cup for himself. 

“What a well mannered husband,” San smiled, raising his cup to toast Seonghwa. 

Prince Hongjoong giggled and leaned into Seonghwa’s side, happily gazing up at him. “Thanks honey.”

Seonghwa wished that the earth would open up and swallow him whole. But when that didn’t happen, he raised his cup and swallowed the fiery liquid. 

They drank for a couple hours, listening to San’s stories about Gyeryongsan. He was a mountain guide, having moved here three years ago when he experienced a sacred calling to protect the mountain. He knew its peaks and valleys, rivers and lakes, and was an expert tracker. He lived in a house that he built himself and invited them to visit and enjoy the spectacular view, along with his homemade spirits. 

By the time they left the tavern and bid San goodnight, Seonghwa was exhausted. His body felt stiff and heavy. He let the Prince slide beneath his arm and support him as they ascended the stone staircase, in the dark, to their room. He let the Prince undress him and help him into his bedclothes. It felt strange to be on the receiving end of such kindness from the Prince, but the Prince insisted that it was okay because he was just Hongjoong tonight. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, as the Prince knelt behind him on the bed, uncoiled his hair and began to brush it. “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment. I’m supposed to be protecting you and here you are looking after me.”

Prince Hongjoong stopped brushing. “You’re not a disappointment. Don’t speak that way about yourself. Just you being here makes me feel safe.”

Seonghwa smiled and the Prince resumed brushing.

“You were incredible last night. The way you were able to think so quickly, keep me covered, build that fire, get the guards’ attention. It happened so fast. Although I was scared, you kept me calm. You reassured me. I am so thankful for _you_.”

Seonghwa hadn’t thought of it that way. He’d only seen his mistakes.

“It’s not only about what you do with your mind and body to protect me.” Prince Hongjoong stopped brushing again and leaned forward, wrapping his arms around Seonghwa. “It’s how you use your heart as well.”

Seonghwa lifted a hand and placed it over one of the Prince’s hands. The Prince rested his head on Seonghwa’s shoulder, nuzzling into his neck, and something inside Seonghwa fluttered. A wave of release washed over his body as he closed his eyes, sinking into the embrace. He hadn’t realised he needed this. The quiet affection they shared at night, in the same bed, under the same blanket, with the heat of their bodies intertwined, was almost too powerful for his conscious mind to handle. Gentle tears welled behind his eyelids. 

“Honey,” Prince Hongjoong whispered, continuing their joke. 

“Hmm?” Seonghwa purred.

“Let’s go to sleep.”


	10. Chapter 10

  
The first thing Seonghwa did when he woke up was blink twice and let his eyes focus on Prince Hongjoong. The Prince was sleeping peacefully beside him. His face looked soft, small. His long eyelashes brushed the tops of his cheeks, his was a delicate slope, beneath it were two pink lips, like cherry blossoms. 

Seonghwa remembered a poem about flower rain, the season of plush petals falling all around two lovers. He’d left the book in the garden house, open to the page of that poem, on the day of the spring flower festival. But he didn’t know if the Prince ever saw it, busy as he was leading festivities. The Prince had worn a light pink hanbok, embroidered with the golden threads of the royal house. He’d looked as pure and beautiful as the blossoms themselves.

While both his parents were known for their crowd pleasing visuals, the Prince resembled his mother. The Queen’s beauty was written into pages upon pages of books, regaled in songs, and depicted with paints. And she cultivated her son in her own image. 

The soft power of the Prince’s beauty and charm were stronger than his prowess with a sword or bow. He could win wars with his speech, the saying went. But the Queen funded a highly trained guard, just in case. This was where Seonghwa’s place was. He should remember it.

Prince Hongjoong stirred and opened his eyes. “What?” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. 

“What?” Seonghwa echoed. 

“You’re staring at me,” the Prince replied.

“Oh, I…uh…was about to get up to change my bandages and I didn’t want to wake you,” Seonghwa answered, hurriedly. 

The Prince sat up and rubbed his eyes. “I’ll do it.” 

“No, my Prince, it’s alright, really. I can do it.” Seonghwa insisted.

“I told you not to call me that here.” Prince Hongjoong yawned and stretched his arms overhead. 

“Right,” Seonghwa sat up, wincing slightly from the pain in his side. “Hong. Joong,” he said, practicing the syllables by themselves. It was strange to say his name so plainly. It almost felt like he was addressing a different person. He always thought of Prince Hongjoong as my Prince. He wasn’t sure how to speak of Hongjoong, without a marker of respect. They were the same age, so he couldn’t even call him older brother or senior. 

The Prince narrowed his eyes, playfully. “Why do you say it like that? _Hong_. _Joong_.” He mimicked the awkwardness in Seonghwa’s voice. 

“It just takes some getting used to,” Seonghwa admitted. “I’ve always called you something else, so this feels different.” 

“My Prince,” Hongjoong giggled. “Short for my Royal Highness, Great Son of Joseon, Under the Sky, Above the Earth, The Only One, Crown Prince Hongjoong.” 

Seonghwa laughed, but the Prince was not done.

“Wisest ruler! Kindest soon-to-be King! Most loved! Best body! Best face! Prettiest hair!” Prince Hongjoong tossed his hair back, over his shoulder.

Seonghwa laughed harder, cradling the ache in his side. “Yes, yes, all of those.”

“Oh,” Prince Hongjoong said, the smile fading from his face. “You’re hurting. Let me get the medicine.” He rose and fetched the supplies he needed to clean Seonghwa’s laceration, administer salve, and cover it with fresh bandages. “Take your shirt off,” he directed.

Seonghwa did as he was told, his bare chest prickling from the sudden chill. The Prince’s hands were warm as he attended to him. He’d washed them in water and then heated them by the oil lamp before touching Seonghwa’s skin. His hands were soft and the warmth was nice, soothing. He worked quickly, having memorised the medic’s instructions, and confidently declared that Seonghwa’s wound was already healing. 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, still unaccustomed to being in the Prince’s care. “You really don’t have to do this.” 

The Prince responded by pinching his nipple. 

“Ah!” Seonghwa cried, though it didn’t hurt. It felt…good, and he felt it everywhere. 

Prince Hongjoong gave him a coy smile and got up to wash his hands and put away the medical supplies. 

Seonghwa slipped his bedshirt back over his head and when he looked up again, the Prince was bent over, rummaging through their foodbag, less than a metre from his head. Seonghwa’s brain flooded with the vision of pressing his face between those perfect, round cheeks. 

He snapped his head away. What was getting into him? He’d strictly disciplined himself not to think such thoughts about the Prince. 

“Here,” Prince Hongjoong said, flopping down to his knees beside Seonghwa. He held a cured sausage in his hand. “Eat. You need your strength.” 

Seonghwa’s mouth dropped open and he quickly sucked his lower lip in, biting gently to stifle his laughter. He was really losing control. 

The Prince looked from Seonghwa to the sausage and back again. “Aish, your mind,” he teased. 

“What?” Seonghwa giggled, his ears turning red. 

“So you do have a sense of humour,” Prince Hongjoong smirked. “What happened to pure Seonghwa? You’re becoming so worldly out here.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said, sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to offend you…Hongjoong.”

The Prince shook his head and smiled. “Eat,” he insisted, handing the sausage over. 

They discussed the day’s plans. Or, rather the Prince elaborated on his ideas. While they were waiting for the caravan to return, they would take San up on his offer of a visit. If their assailant was following the caravan, they would have a few days to rest from Seonghwa’s injury and explore the area. If the assailant was still here, it would help to have someone, familiar with the mountain, on their side, especially with Seonghwa’s current condition.

Seonghwa felt a twinge of discomfort at the thought of San performing heroic deeds for the Prince, while he sat idly by. He wasn’t as hurt as the Prince seemed to think he was. Besides, what if San was the archer? 

“What if San is the archer?” Seonghwa piped up. “How do we know we can trust him?”

“He’s not,” Prince Hongjoong replied, confidently. “His fingers don’t have the callouses yours do.” 

Seonghwa recalled the Prince running his hand along San’s arm. He’d been looking for physical clues, not savouring the man’s muscular build. Seonghwa cringed with the memory of how foolishly he’d behaved last night. 

The Prince seemed to pick up on Seonghwa’s quiet shift in mood. “Besides, even if he were, you’re better,” he added. “You wouldn’t have missed.” 

Seonghwa glanced at him, unsure. 

“I calculated the trajectory, based on the angle of the shot, the weight of the arrow, and the estimated speed at which it travelled. The arrow, while it had a decent amount of energy, was too light to carry enough momentum to make an impact. This is why it grazed you, rather than pierced your ribs. The archer also underestimated the breeze and the impact it would have on the power and accuracy of the shot. The draw itself must have been rather impotent, probably due to a heavy bow. San is quite muscular, he would likely be capable of a full draw on any bow. It wasn’t him.”

“How…?” Seonghwa’s mouth gaped open. 

“Master Choi is a very good teacher. He thinks I don’t listen because I’m often falling asleep in class, but I remember things.” A subtle sadness washed over his face. “I always want to learn the bow and my father had just started to teach me when…” He shook his head. “Anyway my mother wouldn’t let me learn any weapon styles, only hand and foot styles. She prefers the Royal Guard fight for me.”

“I’ll teach you,” Seonghwa offered. 

“Really?” Prince Hongjoong smiled, brightly. 

“Of course, it would be my pleasure.”

The Prince’s smile faded. “She wouldn’t like that.” 

Seonghwa kept his face still, but something simmered inside him. Despite his mischievous personality, Prince Hongjoong was a good son, an obedient son, and he was very well old enough to make his own decisions. If the Queen had her way, she’d keep him wrapped in cottonwool. 

“But while the mother must care for the son, so must the son care for the mother,” he said. “Many Kings before me have excelled at archery. By developing skills in all areas, I will show myself to be a balanced reflection of her wisdom and devotion.”

Seonghwa gazed at the Prince, impressed with his cleverness and courage. “We can start today, if you wish.” 

The Prince smiled, a cute, smug little smile. “I do wish.” 

********

They packed up their supplies and took a light meal in the tavern before riding out towards a grove of zelkova trees. The rain had cleared and the roads and fields were dry. Prince Hongjoong already knew the basics of how to string and fire a bow, so Seonghwa focused their first lesson on perfecting his form and stance. This was where he had great focus, based on years of patient practice. He wouldn’t be so easily distracted by their bodily proximity or the light touches he gave the Prince’s arms and waist. He gently guided the Prince into a relaxed, rhythmic breathing pattern, which they practiced, in unison, with his chest at the Prince’s back. 

Prince Hongjoong landed more shots than he missed, striking the stump of an old tree with solid accuracy, albeit lesser speed. Seonghwa was not surprised. The Prince was good at everything. Though he often seemed playful, he was also diligent and listened well. 

After the lesson, they walked to a stream where the horses could drink water and munch grass. They fed them apples and then Seonghwa spread out a blanket under a tree, where they could rest before starting the ascent up the mountain. 

Seonghwa was glad he could prove himself useful to the Prince. It diverted his attention from the frustration of being wounded and unable to pursue their assailant. Though his body may have been resting, his mind couldn’t, not until he found whoever tried to hurt Prince Hongjoong. 

In his methodical way, the Prince discussed the possibilities. Was it someone from the palace? A disloyal member of the Royal Council, perhaps? He couldn’t think of a reason or rumour behind that theory. Was it his uncle? He was the obvious choice. His jealousy over Queen Hyori’s long regency was an open secret. But he hadn’t visited the palace in months. How would he have known the convoy’s schedule and sent someone from his region, far northeast of the palace, to follow them? Could it have been bandits? There was only one archer and while they weren’t up to the skill level of the Royal Guard, they were a better shot than the average bandit. What about a former soldier, hired by one of the families not selected for the royal bridal circle? There was one family likely to feel entitled to an audience with the Queen and Prince and they were based at the southernmost valley of Gyeryongsan. They claimed ties going back to King Taejo, though the family had greatly diminished in status over time, due to infighting and a stubborn refusal to negotiate with others.

“There are too many possibilities and not enough leads.” Prince Hongjoong sighed, slumping against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “It seems like the question of who wouldn’t want to kill me might be easier to answer.”

“No!” Seonghwa insisted, boldly taking one of the Prince’s hands between his own. “Please don’t think that way. You have me. And so long as I live, I will keep you safe from harm.”

“My Sword and Shield,” the Prince murmured. “I know that you will.”

********

San had given them directions to his house, drawn from memory with a nib of charcoal on a scrap of bamboo leaf. It had since smudged in the Prince’s pocket, but Seonghwa could still make it out. He’d studied the maps of this area carefully and could identify a few of the markers San had made. 

They loaded their supplies and rode up the trail, starting at a cluster of golden larch trees. The first hour of the ride was easy. The last twenty minutes were harrowing, as the horses slowly traversed tight switchbacks. The Prince was a good rider, with natural strength and balance in his hips and thighs. Though he’d trained himself to endure heights, the scale of a mountain was far greater than a palace wall. Seonghwa had to take deep breaths and focus on following the Prince, so that he wouldn’t look down. 

The ground levelled out and they rode along a ridge, turning left at a thicket of alder trees. They crossed a bubbling brook and soon came upon a house built directly into the side of a cliff. The base of the house was white stone, the structure was wood, and the roof was thatch. 

“Welcome!” San called, stepping onto the deck as Seonghwa and the Prince dismounted. “I’m glad you made it. Please, come inside and rest. I have tea, homemade wine and spirits, vegetables from my garden, and tonight I’m making chicken stew. I hope you can stay. It’s not often I get visitors up this way.” 

San showed them around the house. There was a spare room where they could sleep, with well heated floors, and plenty of food, thanks to the women at the Donghaksa temple who kept him well stocked with all sorts of delights, like fermented radishes and marinated tofu, preserved fruits and sweetened rice cakes with honey and nuts. 

The Prince was pleased to hear that the threat of famine hadn’t reached this area. While the rains had been heavy the past few days, there had yet to be any flooding this season. San had already purchased the rice he needed from markets in the riverlands. 

Seonghwa and the Prince rested with a meal of clear soup, rice, fried greens, and spicy tofu. They thanked San for his generosity and gifted him a box of persimmons, they’d brought from the palace. While Seonghwa had reviewed their stock of weaponry and medicine, the Prince’s diplomatic mind had thought about gifts and bribes. San was delighted. He showed them around the immediate area, pointing out birds and plants, and telling them about the sacred qi pathways flowing from the mountain. 

Prince Hongjoong listened politely as San shared the important cultural and historical features of the mountain and refrained from pointing out his mistakes. The Prince was very well educated in Joseon history and the histories of the Three Kingdoms. He asked questions that San would find interesting and flattered San about his dedication to the mountain. Now that Seonghwa knew the Prince wasn’t sweet-talking San into his bed, he could actually admire the Prince’s way with words.

They walked along the brook, which was flanked with slick, mossy stones. Instinctively, Seonghwa reached for the Prince, placing one hand at the small of his back and the other at his elbow. He wouldn’t allow the Prince to slip and fall into the water. Prince Hongjoong smiled. 

San gave them a curious look. Seonghwa realised that it was because his action was not the typical behaviour of a friend traveling with a friend, or even two lovers. They had joked about being a couple, last night at the tavern, but since neither of them wore a topknot, they obviously weren’t married. 

Sensing the unspoken question, Prince Hongjoong steered the conversation into San’s experience with tracking in the area. San confirmed his experience and the Prince asked him to describe some of his techniques for tracking animals, or even people. They walked and talked until the sun began to sink. Then they went back to the house and San began to prepare dinner. He suggested they walk to the west, where they would come across a bluff and a fantastic view of the sunset.

********

They lit a lantern and brought it to give light on the path as they returned. They both wore swords and Seonghwa wore a bow as well. He wasn’t taking any more chances. 

They were quiet as they walked, both of them observing the streaks of pink and orange in the sky. They reached the bluff and sat down on a hollow log that had been carved into a simple, natural bench and watched the sun sink into the horizon. 

“I wonder where the palace is,” the Prince said, rising to walk towards the bluff’s edge.

“I think, it’s over there,” Seonghwa answered, pointing north and slightly west, as he followed the Prince, keeping their bodies close. 

Though they had the light of the lantern, the sun would soon set and the edge of the ground would appear to vanish. 

“Be careful…Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, circling an arm around the Prince’s waist and drawing him back from the edge. 

“I don’t want to go back.” The Prince’s words were sorrowful. “I know we have to. But I don’t want to. Being away from that place, spending these last few days out here, with you, has shown me a freedom I’ve never known. I wish that we could spend all our days riding across the land and meeting the people, bathing in hot springs and hiking mountains.” 

“Mmm,” Seonghwa sighed, his breath soft on the Prince’s ear. “I wish that too.” He wanted that and more, so much more. He wanted to wake up next to Hongjoong’s face every morning and fall asleep with him every night. It was a dream he’d never allowed himself to imagine because the pain of unfulfilled longing was too intense. They had lives, roles, to return to and whatever happiness he’d felt out here was fleeting. 

In a way the palace rumours were right. Not about him sleeping with the Prince, but there was something in him that felt drawn to the Prince as a companion. He enjoyed simply spending time with him, eating, talking, riding together. He’d grown fond of having the Prince’s smile, his laugh, the light in his eyes, all to himself. His chest felt tight with the things he’d kept buried deep inside him. This fragile peace that they’d known for only a few days…it couldn’t last. 

“I should be scared.” Prince Hongjoong stared at the last glimmer of sun in the distance. “But I’m not. Because you’re here.” He looked up at Seonghwa, their faces half shadowed, half glowing with golden light. “My Sword, my Shield…my Heart.” 

Something lurched inside Seonghwa, like a rabbit leaping past a fence and running free into a wide, green field. Before he could stop himself, he was leaning into Prince Hongjoong, arms tightening around his waist, lips finding his lips with a tender kiss. Stars burst and showered throughout him, as vast and sparkling as the night that was slowly closing around them. His entire body trembled. 

“Forgive me!” Seonghwa gasped, tearing himself away from the Prince. “I’m sorry, please forgive me!” He sank to his knees, bringing his head toward the ground in deepest apology. Though they’d become close over these days outside the palace, though he’d even called the Prince by his first name, they were still Prince and Guardian. There was a world of difference between them. How could he think himself worthy of the Prince? He was a fool. He’d made a grave mistake and deserved whatever punishment the Prince saw fit. 

The sun was gone and the lantern cast a flickering light that did not reach them. 

“Rise,” the Prince spoke, at last. 

Seonghwa slowly stood to face him.

They watched each other, eyes locked, as the moon began to sail into view, high and bright. 

Prince Hongjoong reached up and wrapped his fingers in the fabric at Seonghwa’s chest, pulling him forward. His other hand reached for Seonghwa’s shoulder, sliding around to embrace him, as he leaned up to capture his mouth in a deep kiss. 

This kiss made Seonghwa dizzy. His arms circled around the Prince, grounding himself, as all sense of direction left his body. The moon was above him or behind him or below him. He didn’t know. All there was began and ended with that kiss. They were no longer Prince and Guardian. They were two sweet, hungry creatures, kissing as though nothing else mattered.


	11. Chapter 11

  
The sun had long set when Prince Hongjoong finally withdrew from Seonghwa, leaving him lusty for cold, night air, fingertips scraping to hold onto the Prince’s coat. The heat generated by their mouths and bodies pressed together quickly began to dissipate. Seonghwa’s heart sank. He’d waited so long for this. He didn’t want to let go. 

“We should get back,” Prince Hongjoong said. “Before San thinks we wandered off a cliff and comes looking.” 

Seonghwa wanted to pull him closer, kiss him until the sun came up again, and even then, kiss him some more, because he needed this moment to last, in case he never got another one, in case this was too good to be true. Instead he cupped the Prince’s face, thumb sliding over his soft cheek, and said “okay.” 

Prince Hongjoong smiled. Then he went to retrieve the lantern. 

Seonghwa followed, catching the Prince’s hand in his own. Now that he had permission to touch, kiss, and hold the Prince, it was all he wanted to do. With no palace whispers or watchful eyes around, this could be their secret.

“You’re sweet,” Prince Hongjoong sighed. “No wonder it took you so long to kiss me.” 

“What?” Seongwha responded. Had the Prince been waiting for this? 

“I’ve wanted to kiss you, a thousand times,” the Prince said, eyes shining in the warm glow of the lantern, “but I was waiting for you to tell me that you want it too.”

“I want it,” Seonghwa blurted, leaning down to find Prince Hongjoong’s lips again. His entire body wanted the Prince, so much that it made him forget all the reasons why doing this was wrong. He’d spent most of his life training his body, to bring it under his control, and now years of discipline melted away, as his body willingly gave itself to the Prince’s control. 

“Wait just a little bit longer,” Prince Hongjoong breathed, as he pulled away, lips slick with the taste of Seonghwa’s tongue, “and you can have all of me.”

Seonghwa gazed at the Prince, obedient. His mind clouded with the vision of sharing the Prince’s bed, this time with the Prince warm and naked in his arms. He’d been visited by this fantasy, over and over again, only allowing it to unfurl in the still of the night, when he was sleepless and alone his own room. He’d never thought that it would become real. 

The Prince smiled, a coy half-smile, and turned to lead them back to the house. 

With only the moon to witness their affection, they walked hand in hand, stopping to kiss against a twisted pine tree, and again, when they reached the wooden gate to San’s house. The house was aglow with light and the fragrant scent of a warm, hearty meal beckoned them. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa whispered, nuzzling the Prince’s ear. 

“Yes?” The Prince replied, his voice a soft puff of air on Seonghwa’s skin.

“I just like saying your name,” Seonghwa replied.

The Prince squeezed his hand. “Say it as much as you like. At this mountain, we have no need for titles.” 

The truth of that sentiment hit Seonghwa like a strong gust of cold wind. This was too good to last. Their time was limited to the mountain. He was a diversion, part of the Prince’s adventure beyond the palace walls, before they returned to official titles and duties. How was he any different from the courtesans who entertained the Prince? 

In a few days, they would have to go back to the palace. And prepare for a royal wedding. If this time was all they had, Seonghwa wouldn’t waste a second of it.

  
********

San had prepared a simple but tasty meal of chicken stew, rice, and vegetables from Donghaksa temple. The women of the temple were renowned for their delicious dishes made without meat or onions or garlic. They considered San like a son or grandson, they looked after him and he often helped with chores. At this time of year, the temple grounds were closed to visitors, the only part that remained open the whole year was the meditation hall. Still, it was well worth a visit, according to San’s recommendations. 

San was eager to talk, as he spent most days alone, save for his visits to the temple and tavern at the inn. He shared many stories of the mountain, the animals he’d tracked, the spirits that resided in the forest and streams, the beauty at each turn of the season. All Seonghwa could focus on was the Prince, the beautiful Prince who had kissed him back, and who looked so wonderfully kissable, spooning succulent morsels of marinated aubergine into his mouth.

Seonghwa wanted to wrap up the conversation quickly, so that they could be alone again. But the Prince seemed enthralled with San, listening excitedly to his stories and asking thoughtful questions, charming him with seductive eyes and subtle praise. Seonghwa knew it would be impolite to feign illness or exhaustion, even though the laceration under his left ribs was reason enough to retire early. So he continued to drink as San continued to ladle clear, fruity liquor into their cups. 

They continued eating and drinking, talking and laughing, late into the night. The Prince’s cheeks grew slightly pink and his eyes took on a glaze, that Seonghwa fondly recognised as sleepiness. He’d seen that look many times and been amused by the Prince’s protestations, when asked if he was tired. 

Prince Hongjoong sat with his hand under his chin, propping his head up, gazing at San and giggling at his anecdotes. Seonghwa leaned closer, angling his shoulder towards the Prince. A rush of warmth spread through him when the Prince’s hand and then cheek touched his back, and came to rest on his shoulder. 

San smiled at them and said something about having a lot of work to do, preparing the house and the garden for the cold spell that would likely come soon, so he should get his rest. He told Seonghwa to make himself and the Prince comfortable in the bedroom to the right, and to sleep as late as they wanted tomorrow. Seonghwa couldn’t leave the dishes untidied, so he washed them while the Prince dozed on a cushion.

When they were finally alone together, tucked under the covers, the Prince’s chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic sleep, Seonghwa gathered the courage to express himself. 

“This is not how I’d hoped the night would end,” he whispered, “but I’m happy as long as you’re with me.” He kissed the Prince’s cheek. “Do you know how hard it was to sleep beside you, when I wanted to kiss and touch you?” It was not a question but a confession. 

“How hard?” Prince Hongjoong giggled softly. 

For a moment, Seonghwa wanted to roll his hips into the Prince and let him feel how hard and ready he was. But the impulse soon faded. He wanted him fully, awake and aware enough to enjoy each kiss, remember every touch. 

Seonghwa found the Prince’s hand and guided it up to his chest. “I was sure you could feel how hard my heart beats when you’re near,” he whispered.

The Prince’s eyelashes fluttered, opening for the few seconds it took to smile at Seonghwa. He whispered something inaudible and drifted into sleep.

********

The next day, they trekked up the mountain to visit the temple. It was already late morning when they left, still a bit groggy from last night’s alcohol consumption. San was hard at work, protecting his garden from the frost that was due to arrive soon. 

The ride was steep, leaving little time for Seonghwa’s mind to wander back to the sweet, sleepy kiss the Prince had woken him with this morning. Or the memory of needing urgently to relieve his full bladder, which had ruined any hope of spending a secluded morning in bed with the Prince. 

They stopped at a small cleaning, to give the Prince another archery lesson. But neither of them could focus on much more than the other’s lips and hands. Seonghwa could have spent hours, just holding the Prince in his arms and kissing him. The more they kissed, the more he felt the absence of kisses when the Prince was anywhere else. But the crisp November air and limited daylight, made them push onwards.

When they reached the temple, the view was astounding. A ridge of smaller mountains was visible to the east, while great swaths of forest and green, rolling river lands were visible to the west and north. The temple itself was lovely, greeting them with colourful panels of flowers, birds, trees, and rivers. The signs were all in hanja, which Prince Hongjoong read aloud to him. While Seonghwa hadn’t studied hanja as extensively as the Prince, he knew more than most commoners, as he’d needed it to pass his exams for the Royal Guard. Still, there were many characters he didn’t know, ancient and scholarly meanings he didn’t understand, so he appreciated the Prince including him, and let him know with a fond smile. 

The temple grounds were, as San had said, closed to visitors, but since they’d been sent with his blessing, in the form of a small card stamped with Donghaksa in golden hanja, they were invited for a tour of the temple and grounds. The tour included the gardens, where the monks grew vegetables, the terrace lined with vats of fermenting delicacies, and the kitchen where they preserved food and prepared meals. They made a donation and sat for an hour in the meditation hall, after which they were encouraged to purify themselves in the healing mineral waters of the temple pools. 

As it was a women’s temple, they were left at the door to the men’s changing room and told that they would be soaking in seclusion, since there were no other men at the temple. Seonghwa followed the Prince into the room, where they were to remove their clothes and wash their bodies before entering the mineral pools. 

“Wait here,” Prince Hongjoong said, eyeing Seonghwa with a playful grin. “We can’t go in at the same time. I’ll go first and you follow me in a few minutes.”

“What? Why?” Seonghwa asked. They’d bathed together plenty of times, in the palace baths, and in the wild spring they’d visited just a few days ago. 

“Because,” the Prince giggled, sucking his lower lip into his mouth and biting it, softly, but with enough pressure to bring a pleasant flush of pink to the skin, “you want to kiss me.”

Seonghwa smirked and moved closer. “Yes, I do.” He slipped an arm around the Prince’s waist.

“So…” the Prince squirmed out of his grasp. “You won’t be able to resist me.”

“I don’t want to resist you,” Seonghwa grinned, unfastening the ties to his hanbok. 

The Prince danced away, tossing his own hanbok onto a bench. “Just wait!” He called, from the entrance to the washing area, where he dropped his pants, and slowly bent over, to pick them up and toss them aside, before darting behind a folding screen. 

Seonghwa cursed, in a sacred temple. 

He suddenly realised why the Prince wanted him to wait. He was already started to stiffen, just from the quick view of the Prince’s plump ass. There was no way they’d make it through the shower without releasing some of the desire that had been building up between them. 

It wouldn’t do, for their first encounter to be a quick round in a washroom. His previous encounters had been quick, silently going through the motions in a bathhouse or by-the-hour bedroom at an inn, with a fellow guard or a kisaeng. He didn’t have much to offer, not compared to the luxurious trappings of the Prince’s own chamber, but he wanted to give him something special, something worth remembering. Because once they returned to the palace, he might never get the chance again.

Seonghwa collected the Prince’s cast-aside clothes and folded them neatly on a clean, dry bench. Then he undressed and placed his own folded clothes beside the Prince’s. When he heard the water stop, he stepped into the shower and found it vacant. He washed, wrapped a thin linen robe around himself and braced for the cold walk to the nearest warm pool.   
  
Brisk air snapped at his throat and ankles, but he could scarcely care, for the scenery was beyond spectacular. Diffused light lent an air of autumn mystery to the surroundings. To the right, he saw the mountain, soaring above in its immense glory. To the left he saw a wide cliff and a sweeping vista of red, gold, and green leaves. In front of him, there was a luminous blue pool, lined with large, smooth rocks and partially covered with a thatched roof. Thick candles burned in stone pillars on either side of the pool and a lovely Prince sat at the far end, up to his collarbones in aromatic water.

Seonghwa walked to the side of the pool, slipped out of his robe and into the warm water. It reached his pectoral muscles, leaving the expanse of his upper chest, shoulders, and neck exposed. Slowly, he waded over to the Prince. 

“You look pretty,” Seonghwa murmured, dipping lower to circle both arms around the Prince’s waist. He pulled their bodies flush together, warm and nearly weightless in the water. The Prince’s hair was piled on top of his head, in a messy topknot, from which a few soft tendrils had escaped, to frame his face. 

“Pretty.” Prince Hongjoong giggled. 

Seonghwa smiled. “I like the way your hair looks.” He twirled a loose strand around his finger. “I think you should wear it like this all the time.”

“Like this?” Something flickered in the Prince’s eyes.

“Yes,” Seonghwa replied, fully aware that he was asking the Prince to wear his hair in the style of a wedded man and unshaken by his own sudden boldness. “Just for me.” He lowered his head for a kiss and was surprised to find only cheek. 

“You dare to sully these sacred healing waters with your sexual demons?” Prince Hongjoong scolded. “And outside the bond of marriage!” With a flick of his wrist, he splashed a small wave over Seonghwa’s face. 

Seonghwa laughed. “My apologies,” he replied, rising to release his hair from a low twist and winding it up to the crown of his head, where he secured it as a topknot. “Is that better?” He asked, curling his arms around the Prince once again.

Prince Hongjoong grinned. “Much. Now kiss me.” 

“So demanding! Who do you think you are? A prince?” 

“No, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t treat me like one.” 

“I’m not the one who fell asleep at the table last night. You should treat me like a Prince!”

A slow, playful smile spread across Prince Hongjoong’s face. “Is that what you’d like? For me to come to you, in your princely chamber, as you lay on a throne of pillows, and I rub fragrant oil all over your body.” He ran both hands up and across Seonghwa’s chest. 

Seonghwa leaned in for a kiss, but the Prince turned his head away. 

“Again?” Seonghwa groaned. 

“You’re not a Prince. And neither am I. We’re just two bards, travelling across the countryside, singing songs and chasing tigers.”

“Okay, we’re bards,” Seonghwa sighed. “A bard couple.”

The Prince smiled again and slid his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “You look pretty too,” he whispered, nudging Seonghwa’s mouth into a deep kiss. 

It felt like wandering in a warm mist. Partially because he was, actually, suspended in water, but also because he was under complete control of the Prince’s lips and tongue. A tiny gasp left Seonghwa’s lips as the Prince moved closer, his hip coming into gentle contact with Seonghwa’s fully hard dick. And when the Prince’s hand wrapped around it, he moaned.

He couldn’t recall how long it had been since someone had touched him there, but he knew he’d never felt like this before, so wild and wanton. His heart pounded from the heat of the water and from the Prince’s fervent kiss. His hands slid between the Prince’s shoulder blades, gliding down his back, to fill with his round, pert ass.

Prince Hongjoong swirled them around, so that Seonghwa’s back was against the smooth, stone wall. “I want to taste you,” he said. “May I?”

Seonghwa nodded, dizzy from the slow and steady rhythm of the Prince’s right hand, and overly eager to receive whatever else he was willing to give.

“Up,” the Prince directed, nudging Seonghwa’s hips. 

Cold air nipped at Seonghwa’s wet skin, as he lifted his chest, spreading his elbows on dry stone, so he could float his lower half to the surface. But the shock didn’t linger for long, as the Prince wrapped his lips around his dick. With a slight roll of his head, the Prince enveloped him, exhaling through his nose and inhaling sharply as he sank down to the base. 

Seonghwa’s remaining thoughts rose like tiny bubbles and popped in the air as he was surrounded with a rush of warm pleasure. The sensation of floating, coupled with the Prince’s tongue swirling and sliding around his dick, was heavenly. He’d never felt anything like it.

Seonghwa closed his eyes. A slight breeze wafted across his chest, summoning shivers from the droplets of water on his skin. It made his breath catch in his throat. The Prince responded with resonant sound, sliding all the way down to let Seonghwa’s dick tap the back of his throat, then swirling back up to let his tongue lap at the sensitive underskin. 

The Prince playfully licked and flicked the tip, the slit, and then lavished the sides with long, wet stripes. He chuckled as it bobbed against his face, rubbing his cheek and lips. He pursed his lips and drew a breath, inhaling cool air along damp skin. He followed with a gust of warm air and closed his lips around the head once again. 

Prince Hongjoong hummed, a quiet rumbling that sent reverberations throughout Seonghwa’s body, bringing all of his sensitivity to the surface, where it welled, threatening to spill over. There was no use in holding out. The Prince’s head was pulsing in his lap at just the right tempo. He was so good at this. Seonghwa was so close already. 

“Ahhh,” Seonghwa moaned, all words having left him. He didn’t need them anyway. He was already coming in long, heavy spurts, into the Prince’s mouth.

The Prince seemed pleased, swallowing well and using his tongue to lick him clean. Seonghwa relaxed into the water, floating in bliss and the waiting arms of the Prince. He’d needed that release more than he’d even realised. Seonghwa kissed the Prince, not caring one bit about tasting himself on his lush, well used lips. 

“Seonghwa, look,” Prince Hongjoong murmured. 

Seonghwa looked up. Tiny, white specks swirled in the air. “Snow.”

It was too early for snow, at least in the capital, but here on the mountain, the first snow of the season was beginning to fall. Seonghwa smiled, remembering a saying his mother had often repeated. 

_True love blossoms under the first snow._


	12. Chapter 12

In early Spring the sun shines day by day, its fragile hope occasionally muffled with dreary spells of clouds and rain. But Seonghwa’s birthday was a lucky date. The sky was always clear blue and sun always came out to greet him, his mother said, and this year was no exception. The weather was ideal for a ride through the countryside.

A slight breeze ruffled the trees, sending flutters of cherry blossoms swirling about. They clung to Prince Hongjoong’s hair, which he wore loose, free from tight coils and tall hats. He enjoyed taking off the trappings of the palace and Seonghwa enjoyed seeing him this way. Carefree, like their journeys together. 

It was a habit of theirs to spend days, weeks, wandering the land, finding small adventures. On this occasion they’d gone out to view the cherry trees, which bloomed so beautifully around Seonghwa’s birthday. As a gift, the Prince had a grove planted for him, laid out in two rows, alongside a long path of fresh grass. Upon seeing the trees, Seonghwa had grinned and kissed him, amazed that the Prince could somehow make the flowers astoundingly pink and the grass vibrantly green. 

They rested amidst the grove, nibbling on honeyed walnuts they’d brought from the palace and the wild strawberries they’d foraged nearby. It was still early in the season for the strawberries to fully ripen, but they tasted sweet paired with the Prince’s lips. This was Seonghwa’s favourite part about their travels beyond the palace walls, kissing the Prince as much as he wanted. 

He kissed him a lot in the palace too. But those kisses were relegated to certain places and times, like in the garden house, as they stayed up late, talking and reciting poetry, or the early hours as he woke in the Prince’s bed, before scurrying off to pretend he’d spent the night in his own. Those were the only times when prying eyes couldn’t find them. 

It was an open secret, what went on between him and Prince Hongjoong. Since neither the Queen nor King pressured the younger Prince to marry, he was free to fall in love. Which he said happened the moment he laid eyes on Seonghwa, who had just arrived at the palace as a new member of the Royal Guard. He’d been so captivated, that he’d sent his Royal Guardian, Yunho, to post Seonghwa at the garden house, where they could meet. Upon Seonghwa’s first audience with the Prince, he knew he would never leave his side.

With three children and a fourth on the way, the elder Prince had fulfilled his duty to marry well and provide several heirs to the throne. This allowed Prince Hongjoong to explore his own interests, such as becoming an accomplished musician, singer and writer of songs. His official role in the royal family was as a diplomat, travelling throughout the land, in the name of the Crown, resolving disputes and spreading joy. 

Prince Hongjoong was well loved, most of all by Seonghwa. Though he couldn’t gift the Prince an orchard or build a temple in his name, Seonghwa showed him love in every way he could. Through taking care of him, through giving him his utmost loyalty, and through the union of their bodies, which grew deeper with each passing year.

Under the cherry trees, they chatted idly, conversation peppered with kisses, and then the Prince’s head came to rest on his shoulder. It was in every way a perfect day. One that Seonghwa would remember, no matter what sorrows might come. 

Seonghwa gazed across the meadow, which sprawled before them towards a distant mountain range. He squinted at the edges of the grass, which appeared to waver. Green began turning to grey, as a low-hanging cloud moved in, casting a bleak shadow over the far reaches of the field. Seonghwa squinted harder, wondering where the sudden change of weather had come from. The blue sky was fading to white, the same blinding white light of sun. 

_Look my love_ , Seonghwa mouthed, but no words were heard. The Prince was fast asleep on his shoulder. The dark cloud spread rapidly, consuming the flowers and grass in its path. He craned his neck to glance behind them and saw the visage of the palace, which had been nowhere in sight, looming closer. 

_Hongjoong, wake up_ , he gasped, the sound strangled in his throat as he reached for the Prince’s shoulder to wake him. The darkness became a black fire devouring the land. 

_Hongjoong_ …

  
*******

A sudden movement sent ripples through the calm image of Seonghwa and the Prince, reflected in the clear blue lake. Seonghwa reached for his bow and was already lining up an arrow, when the Prince put a hand on his arm and pointed to an oak tree nearby. Beneath the gold and green leaves was San, crouched on a rock, waving and munching on what appeared to be an apple, or maybe a pear. 

“I found these!” San called, pitching a small round object, which Seonghwa confirmed to be a pear, when it landed with a thud in the dry leaves near the Prince’s knees. “Delicious!” 

Another pear sailed through the air, landing closer to the Prince than the first.

“Does he have to throw them at us?” Seonghwa grumbled, sliding the arrow back into the quiver strapped to his back. “He’s as wild as the mountain.” 

“He’s just easily excited,” Prince Hongjoong said. “He doesn’t get much company up here.”

Seonghwa scowled and picked up both pears. “Let him keep playing and hit you with one of these. I’ll introduce his hand to the sharp end of my sword.” 

“Seonghwa!” Prince Hongjoong exclaimed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit much?”

He stared at the Prince, unable to find words to express what was darkening his mood. He wanted to share his bittersweet daydream with the Prince. But he didn’t want to frighten him. So he turned to wash the fruit in the lake. The water was cold and he wished they were still in the temple hot springs, his hands filled with the heat of the wet, naked Prince. It was all he could think about, being with the Prince. Happy together. But soon they would return to the palace.

“Here,” he said, handing one of the pears to Prince Hongjoong. “You should eat.”

“I know you’re just being protective, but San isn’t trying to hurt us.”

“Well, someone is,” Seonghwa snapped, regretting the words as he spoke them. He wanted to stop, shake this foul mood, brought on by the wretched vision that had destroyed his daydream, just moments ago. But he couldn’t stop. “Someone tried to hurt you. And instead of finding him and putting him beneath the ground, we’ve been pretending that the danger doesn’t even exist.”

“Okay, we will be okay. The caravan should return today. Maybe the guard already caught the person who did this,” the Prince said, his voice low and soothing, as he placed a hand around Seonghwa’s waist, just below the still healing gash in his left side.

Seonghwa lowered his head, sighing heavily as the Prince gently stroked his lower back. He pressed his lips together before he said more things he’d regret. If he were a better Guardian, he’d have been the one to comfort the Prince. Instead the Prince was comforting him. If he were a better Guardian, he’d have been the one to come up with a plan. Instead it had been the Prince’s idea to meet the caravan and have San follow and track the assailant. He felt useless. 

“Good news!” San announced, tossing a pear core into the lake as he strolled up to greet them. “I spotted the caravan. It wasn’t hard. You can see those red banners all the way on the horizon. By my estimate, it should reach the other side of the river, across from the tavern, in less than two hours. It will start getting dark around then, so that’s probably the best place to camp for the night. Do you think anyone from the royal family is with them? I hear the Queen doesn’t travel much. But I’d love to see the Prince. Everyone says he’s so handsome.”

Prince Hongjoong exchanged a silent glance with Seonghwa. He knew what the Prince was thinking. And though he didn’t agree, he would support the Prince, no matter what. His sword would always be ready.

“Well done, San.” Prince Hongjoong turned to greet him. “There’s something I have to tell you.” 

********

As they prepared to meet the caravan, Seonghwa remained quiet. He’d taken many liberties with the Prince over the last few days and now he would have to resume his place as a Royal Guardian amongst Royal Guards, as they made their way back to the palace. He would no longer be at liberty to call the Prince by his common name, nor kiss the tiny mark on his neck whenever he felt like it. He’d only just begun to touch and taste the Prince and he was certain there was a long way to go before he even came close to getting his fill. 

Their night at the temple had been the best night of his life. They’d been given a small house, separate from the main temple, where male scholars usually stayed. Since the temple was closed for the season, they had the house all to themselves, no watchful eyes or listening ears to intrude upon their solace. They’d talked and laughed until they could barely breathe. The Prince had riddled him with playful questions, such as when did Seonghwa first realise that he was irresistible and whether Seonghwa could undress him without using his hands. 

Eventually the laughter and play had dissolved into a blissful exhaustion, that had left Seonghwa holding the Prince in his arms and whispering into his hair about how wonderful he was. Whether it was delirium from the hot water or the first snow, Seonghwa had spoken of things he’d never discussed before, like the moment, long ago, when he’d realised that there was an invisible thread, tying them together.   
  
The smile this confession had earned him was heart stopping. He’d never seen the Prince so soft, yet so elated. And he’d been rewarded with a kiss that said everything the Prince was too shy to say. 

Now it seemed that Seonghwa was feeling too shy, or too sour to speak. But when the Prince kissed him, shortly before they embarked from San’s house, Seonghwa held him tightly and kissed him back, as if it were the last kiss they might ever have. He didn’t want to let go of this moment, of the time they’d spent together on the mountain. Something inside him had broken, snapped like kindling, and now there was a quiet flame for the Prince to tend. 

“Let me change your dressing before we go,” Prince Hongjoong said, running a gentle hand along Seonghwa’s shoulder. 

Seonghwa looked up and saw that the Prince was holding the bundle of medical supplies they’d brought with them. They’d only spent one night since returning to San’s house, but the Prince’s belongings had somehow scattered themselves around the room they occupied. Seonghwa, busy folding and packing the Prince’s garments, hadn’t even considered his bandages. 

“Okay,” Seonghwa replied. He started to rise, but was stopped with a warm kiss, so he remained on his knees, arms securing themselves around the Prince’s waist, as the kiss deepened. 

Soon the Prince was in his lap, giggling as they toppled to the floor together, at Seonghwa’s insistence. They continued to kiss as the Prince unwrapped Seonghwa’s clothes. But his playfulness faded, once he laid eyes on Seonghwa’s bare skin. 

“Oh, Seonghwa,” he sighed, fingers tracing the bandage, looking for the knot to unravel it. 

“It doesn’t hurt,” Seonghwa told him.

Prince Hongjoong gave him a look that said he didn’t believe it. 

“Much,” Seonghwa added.

The Prince gestured toward the bowl of water and small jars of medicine on the table. “Come on.”

Seonghwa’s wound was healing well. There was no sign of swelling or redness. The women of the temple had given him some herbs for tea and some anaesthetic salve, which almost made him forget the scar forming beneath his left ribs. The Prince didn’t dare touch it, when they were undressed for other reasons. He didn’t want to accidentally hurt Seonghwa. But he still insisted on changing the dressing everyday, taking slow, tender care to clean the wound, apply medicine, and wrap it with cotton gauze.

Seonghwa watched the Prince’s face as he worked, imagining what it would be like if they were two common soldiers, an archer and a medic, brought together on the battlefield. The scene reminded him of the books he bought at a little shop in the capital. The bookseller had once remarked that he must be buying this type of book to woo a lady, which couldn’t be farther from the truth. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Seonghwa enjoyed reading romantic stories. However, he kept the books hidden, behind a row of poetry, parables, and pansori fiction. 

Prince Hongjoong finished tying a fresh bandage, kissed Seonghwa’s forehead, and went to wash his hands. Seonghwa felt his absence as soon as he was gone. The room was suddenly cold. The hours they had left were dwindling like daylight. Their adventure was soon coming to an end.

Back in the palace, there would be no open affection. Not amidst serpentine rumours that were now rooted in truth. Were they to sneak around in bedchambers, like thieves? With visits from bridal courts coming, the Prince would be entertaining women, one of whom would become his wife. Rumours could harm his marriage prospects, especially if people believed, as the Queen did, that Seonghwa exerted influence over the Prince.

A wave of nausea rose in Seonghwa’s stomach. Maybe it was the strong scent of herbal medicine that lingered in the air. Maybe it was the fear of his quiet flame growing into a raging fire, that threatened to make him lose all reason. 

********

The trio rode down the mountain to wait at the tavern for the caravan to arrive. The valley was wide and open here, leaving no high ground for an assailant to execute a ranged attack. They’d made San promise not to reveal any knowledge of the Prince, until they were safely back inside the palace. This meant he was supposed to be coolly ignoring them from a short distance, not smiling and sending drinks over. 

Seonghwa didn’t want the Prince drinking alcohol. He was easily intoxicated and that was no way to reunite with the caravan, but the Prince was stubborn so after two drinks, his face was lightly flushed and he was leaning into Seonghwa’s shoulder. That behaviour would have to stop before they rejoined the Royal Guard and returned to the palace. Otherwise people would talk more than they already did and since Seonghwa and the Prince had disappeared together for a few days in the woods, he figured there were already new rumours in the making.

The sun was low in the sky when they left the tavern and crossed the old stone bridge, as the caravan approached. Seonghwa stood beside Prince Hongjoong, wishing he could turn back time. San had already bid them farewell, riding off to flank the caravan from the east. The tightness in Seonghwa’s chest told him he wasn’t quite ready to return. 

Prince Hongjoong reached for his hand and squeezed it. “I’m going to miss this.” He looked up at Seonghwa, trailing slender fingers along his jawline. “Your face,” the Prince said, “it’s so beautiful.”

_Picked more for that pretty face than his ability to protect the Prince._

Seonghwa closed his eyes and tried to quell the palace rumour in his mind, but all the things people had said about him not being good enough for the Prince began to bubble up inside him. 

“What’s wrong?” Prince Hongjoong asked.

“My Prince,” Seonghwa opened his eyes, “May I ask you a question?”

Prince Hongjoong tilted his head, slightly. Doubt flickered in his eyes. “Go on.” 

“Is…is that why you chose me?”

The Prince scoffed. “Because of your beauty?” He withdrew from Seonghwa and frowned. “Ask yourself that question. Is it really something you think I would do?” 

When Seonghwa thought of the Prince, he thought of someone who was strong-willed and smart, playful and sweet, someone who aspired to be the best leader for his people, and someone who had called Seonghwa, a born commoner turned Royal Guardian, his heart. 

Seonghwa lowered his eyes to the ground. “No, I don’t think so.” 

“Then why do you care about those rumours?”

“Because they could hurt you. And I don’t want to cause you any harm. I would do anything to protect you.”

“Seonghwa, what harm? Who is here to talk about us?” 

“Nobody right now. But when we return to the palace…” Seonghwa trailed off. His eyes flicked up to look at the Prince. 

“What are you saying?” 

“I don’t know.” Seonghwa’s words weren’t coming out the way he intended. 

“That you no longer want this?” Prince Hongjoong’s face crumpled. 

“No! I mean, I just can’t let anyone hurt you.”

“You won’t!” Prince Hongjoong insisted. “I trust you to remain a faithful Royal Guardian.”

“But what if it’s me? What if this,” he gestured between them, “causes you harm?”

The Prince was quiet. 

“I’m sorry, my Prince,” Seonghwa said. 

“It’s that easy for you?” The Prince asked, his voice small. “To pick me up and put me down, like a book you no longer care to read?”

“I care,” Seonghwa muttered, “too much.” 

“Then don’t do this!”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Seonghwa replied, numbly.

The Prince snapped his head away and crossed his arms over his chest, as the caravan came to a halt in the distance. “It’s too late.” 

They stood in silence, watching the Royal Guard dismount and begin to set up camp. This was their life, the only life the Prince had ever known, until a few days ago. The happiness they’d known at Gyeryongsan was only temporary. Real life had arrived. 

Seonghwa was a Royal Guardian. There was someone who wanted the Prince dead. That’s where his focus belonged. He couldn’t let his heart get in the way of his vow to protect Prince Hongjoong.


	13. Chapter 13

Prince Hongjoong resumed his royal airs, the very moment he strolled into the encampment. The Royal Guard were happy to see him, everyone crowding and cheering their Prince’s return. The delivery of supplies to the south had been successful and his letter was much appreciated. Three southern noble families had extended invitations for the Prince to visit upon fairer weather in the Spring. 

Seonghwa watched as the Prince made greetings and accepted well wishes. He changed into garments more befitting of his status, which Seonghwa found disheartening. Though the Prince was beautiful in his royal silks, Seonghwa preferred him in common cottons, or better yet, naked. 

Sadly, the image was now resigned to his memory, which was reinforced by the thin layer of ice that had formed between him and the Prince. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing, keeping distance between them in front of the Royal Guard and everyone from the palace. But he had to put duty first. And that meant finding the man who was trying to kill the Prince. 

The valley was low and open, woven with meandering rivers and patches of sparse forest. There were more leaves on the ground than in the trees. The assailant would have great difficulty sneaking up on them through dry, crisp leaves, so hiding in the trees was unlikely. With no elevated land within striking distance, they were well positioned for a direct confrontation. However, anyone would be foolish to strike in the midst of the Royal Guard. So their plan was to set a lure. Seonghwa and the Prince would slip away again, for a private walk along the edge of the nearest wood. If the assailant approached on horseback, they would retreat to the trees and force a ground battle. If the assailant approached from the wood, they would hear them coming and, this time, Seonghwa’s bow would be ready. 

As night darkened the land, Seonghwa sat silently with the Prince in his tent near the glow of the brazier. Seonghwa had instructed San to approach the encampment and make an offering of ginseng root for the health of the royal family, if the assailant was nearby. San had chosen a large piece, from his harvest, and wrapped it in a scrap of red fabric, which he tucked into his coat with an earnest promise to do his best for the Prince. Though he knew the Prince had been trained for it, Seonghwa was nevertheless amazed by his ability to inspire devotion. He’d collected San like a stray cat, even before San learned of his identity. And he’d captivated Seonghwa long ago, when they were just boys. 

As Royal Guardian, Seonghwa outranked the entire group travelling with the caravan, though he was the youngest amongst them. His authority was second only to the Princes’. So when he’d ordered the lead guard, to immediately inform him of any movement from outside the camp, Yushin did so without hesitation. The Prince was reading from a slender book of poems when Yushin approached the tent with word of a strange wanderer who appeared to make an offering in the name of the royal family. The bundle had been unwrapped and scrutinised, before being brought to the Prince as a harbinger of good health.

The Prince flinched at the sight of the thick, gnarled root. The slight movement may have been imperceptible to Yushin, but Seonghwa could see he was scared. Their eyes met as Seonghwa accepted the bundle and presented it to the Prince with both hands. He could hear the Prince’s unspoken fear and longed to hold his hand, or take him in his arms and assure him of his safety. But instead he thanked Yushin and dismissed him from the tent. 

“I’m ready when you are, my Prince,” Seonghwa said, his voice calm and deep. 

The Prince whispered as he wrapped the ginseng in its bit of red cloth. He tucked it inside his coat and looked at Seonghwa with tentative hope in his eyes. “Don’t get hurt this time, okay?”

********

The night was cold, only a hazy sliver of moon visible through the cloudy sky. Seonghwa walked beside the Prince, their footsteps quiet on ground that would likely frost in a few hours. Both were wearing leather armour beneath cotton coats. They walked upstream, keeping the river on their right, as they made their way towards a dark thicket of half skeletal trees. It was so quiet, Seonghwa could hear his heart beating in his chest. A night or two earlier and they would have been two lovers out for a romantic stroll. Their first kiss had been underneath the moon. A very different moon. 

Seonghwa shook the thought of that night from his head. He needed his mind and all his senses attuned to the danger that was in front or behind or all around them. His bow was tuned and ready, his fingers fully prepared to send an arrow into the throat of the heartless beast who dared to challenge the Prince. His sword was sharp, the hilt freshly wrapped with double diamond braided silk cord to ensure a strong grip that would aide him in driving the blade through the worthless flesh of the enemy. 

Before they’d left the mountain, Seonghwa had taken San aside and asked about his skills with a sword and bow. San affirmed that he was good with both, having hunted since he was a small boy. Still, Seonghwa insisted that he promise to protect the Prince with his life. San agreed, but Seonghwa made him say it out loud, a vow between them and the heavens, that no harm would come to Prince Hongjoong. 

They were a little more than halfway to the woods, when a thick fog began to drift down over the valley. 

“We should turn back,” Seonghwa spoke firmly. Soon they would no longer be able to see, nor hear the river and they were too far from camp to shout for help. 

“Okay,” the Prince agreed, his small hand finding purchase at Seonghwa’s bicep. “Oh, sorry,” he said, releasing his grip upon realising that he was inhibiting Seonghwa’s sword arm. 

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa replied, “here, come to my left side.” 

The Prince did as he was told, moving to stand just behind Seonghwa’s left shoulder. 

“You can hold onto me,” Seonghwa reached for the Prince’s hand and placed it on his arm. “I wouldn’t want you to disappear into the fog.” 

Prince Hongjoong smiled, but it quickly faded as his eyes grew wide and he clutched Seonghwa’s arm. The ground was starting to vibrate. They both recognised the rhythm of a horse’s hooves, pounding in their direction. 

Seonghwa looked around at what little of the land was still visible. He knew were closer to the woods than they were to the camp. The river was now behind them but he couldn’t see exactly how far. 

“The woods,” he hissed, “run!”

The Prince sprang forward, his legs moving surprisingly fast as he darted towards the trees, whose thin limbs reached above the low hanging fog. Seonghwa followed, quickly passing the Prince with his longer stride. He paced himself alongside the Prince, hoping that the dark night and dense fog would be enough cloak for them to safely reach the edge of the oaks. 

An arrow struck the ground a scant metre in front of Seonghwa. He grabbed the Prince’s coat and veered to the right, pushing faster, even as Prince Hongjoong stumbled trying to keep up. The horse thundered closer and Seonghwa jolted to the left, dragging the Prince as his boots caught on a rock and he stumbled again. Another arrow sailed past their heads, splintering the bark of the nearest tree. Seonghwa fisted both hands in the Prince’s coat and shoved him forward, into a pile of leaves. The Prince hit the ground like a cast-aside doll, made from worn rags, but Seonghwa had no time to check if he was hurt before he dropped down on one leg and slid into the leaves. He rolled onto the Prince, heaving his limp body behind a tree, then spun onto his feet, crouching behind the thick oak, as he quickly unstrapped his bow and readied an arrow.

Considering the close distance, drawing his bow was a risk, but there was no better way to combat an assailant on horseback. He listened as a crash scattered dry leaves somewhere to the left and sound of the hooves began to fade. 

“Garaad ir,” a voice growled, “bas nadtai tulald!”

Seonghwa didn’t recognise the words. But they helped him narrow the location of the assailant. He released his arrow and heard another unknown string of sounds as it hit. A large figure staggered forward, bracing a hardened leather shield. Slowly, Seonghwa reached for another arrow, but just as his fingers found his quiver, the Prince stirred, rustling the leaves.

An axe whistled through the air and Seonghwa turned behind the tree just in time to hear it strike bark. He drew his sword and twisted his body into a low, ready position, determined to drive the action away from the Prince. He waited for the crunch of the assailant’s footsteps, before springing out with a clean, upward stroke of his sword. The assailant stepped back, dodging the attack, then quickly regained his balance, meeting Seonghwa’s steel with his own. 

Their swords clashed twice more before Seonghwa danced back, keenly aware that the assailant was clearly superior to him in size and strength. If he couldn’t be bigger and stronger, he would have to be smarter and faster - like a rabbit outmanoeuvring a bear. 

Seonghwa kicked the earth, sending a spray of dirt and leaves towards the assailant’s face. The man cried out, in what Seonghwa assumed was a curse in his language, as he stooped to shield his eyes. Seonghwa dashed towards a tree, jumping and kicking off the trunk to give his next attack greater force. His sword sliced through leather straps, cutting the assailant’s two piece breastplate. He pivoted and stabbed at the unprotected flesh between the severed leather armour, but was knocked breathless with a swift kick to his tender ribs. Pain flashed before his eyes, so sharp he could see it, as his healing skin ripped open again. With one thick leg, the man swept Seonghwa onto the ground.

“Come for me!” Prince Hongjoong called. “I’m the one you want.” 

Seonghwa blinked to clear his vision and saw the Prince standing, sword drawn. 

The man said something they couldn’t understand and rushed in, disarming the Prince in two rapid strokes.

“No!” Seonghwa shouted, scraping to his feet as the assailant grabbed the Prince by the collar and whipped his giant hand across the Prince’s small face. 

The Prince dropped to the ground, the force of the blow too much for him. 

Seonghwa lunged forward, driving the tip of his steel into the assailant’s back. The man lurched around, deflecting the full force of the strike with his shield. Seonghwa kicked the shield aside and positioned his sword for another strike, aimed to deepen the surface wound. But he was too close, his sword too long, and the man took advantage of that to bring a knee to his stomach. Gasping, Seonghwa doubled over. 

The assailant raised his weapon, but Seonghwa was faster, clasping the hilt of his sword with both hands and driving it into the man’s boot. 

A wild scream pierced the night. 

Seonghwa withdrew his sword and, with its hot, bloody tip, detached the man’s sword from his grip. He spun his steel, ready to sever the hand that had struck the Prince, when the man lurched at him, knocking them both into dry leaves and hard ground. 

As his head hit the earth, Seonghwa gasped again, but managed to flip his grip and slam the hilt end of his sword into the man’s head. Dizzy, he grabbed Seonghwa’s wrist and banged it into the ground, until the sword slipped from Seonghwa’s grasp. Something, an elbow or a knee, landed in his groin and Seonghwa groaned, unwittingly shutting his eyes from the pain.

When he opened them again, there was a dagger pointed at his face. The man spoke and this time Seonghwa understood, from the slicing motion he was making along his cheek with the tip of the dagger. He was going to enjoy cutting up Seonghwa’s face before he killed him. 

Weary from the gash in his side, which was losing blood, and the aches in his head and groin and everywhere else it seemed, Seonghwa was out of ideas. He may have lacked strength and wits and experience, but he had dedication. And he wouldn’t give up protecting the Prince’s life until his very last breath.

He balled up his fist, ready for one more strike, when suddenly a flash of grey appeared before his eyes and the assailant slumped over to the side. Seonghwa slid himself from beneath the man and looked around through tendrils of fog. Blood was trickling from the man’s head and there was a large stone nearby, stained with red. Seonghwa looked up to see the Prince staring in shock and terror. 

“My Prince!” Seonghwa’s breath was heavy as he rose, unsteadily, to his feet. “Are you okay?” He reached out to wrap Prince Hongjoong into his arms. “Are you hurt?” He asked, eyes roaming over the Prince’s body and up to his reddened face and purpled eye. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, holding the Prince to his chest. “I never should have brought you out here.”

Seonghwa held onto him for a long time and the quiet of the night settled around them once again. He could feel the Prince breathing rapidly and began taking slow, deep breaths to calm him. 

“Is…is he dead?” Prince Hongjoong asked, finally breaking the silence.

They turned to look at the figure planted face down in the soil. 

“It doesn’t look like he’s breathing,” Prince Hongjoong whispered. 

“Don’t look,” Seonghwa urged him. The Prince wasn’t a trained soldier, or even a village boy. The daily violence outside the palace walls was new to him. 

“Seonghwa,” the Prince’s eyes were wide and his lips trembled, “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

Seonghwa watched his tender, swollen face carefully. “You did well, my Prince. You…you saved me.” 

“He was going to cut your face,” the Prince placed a hand at Seonghwa’s cheek, eyes roaming over his features. “Are you okay?” 

“I’ll be okay,” Seonghwa replied. Through all his cuts and aches, the part that hurt most was seeing Prince Hongjoong so bruised. “I’m sorry he hurt you.” 

A rustling of leaves startled the Prince. Seonghwa spun around to see the man, battered and bloody, clumsily rising with Seonghwa’s sword in his meaty fist. 

He garbled something, waving the sword at them. 

“Stay behind me,” Seonghwa ordered, tucking the Prince behind his back. He slowly stepped to the side, in the direction of where the other sword had scattered.

Seonghwa heard a whoosh and suddenly the man sank to the ground, with an arrow protruding from his neck. 

“Sorry I’m late!” A voice called.

Seonghwa looked up to see San trotting towards them through the haze. 

“I was waiting at the edge of the wood, thinking we were going to trap him there together. Is everybody alright?” San’s eyes widened when he saw the Prince. “Wow, your face! Hang on,” he stooped to dig around in the earth, coming up with a smooth, porous stone smaller than his palm. “Here put this over your eye. It’s cold and retains moisture, so it will help with the swelling until we get you back to camp.” 

The Prince appeared confused but pressed the stone to his face anyway. 

“Thanks,” Seonghwa said, “you were right on time.”

  
********

The walk back to camp was excruciating. Seonghwa’s muscles ached, his entire body ached, and his cut, which had been healing so well, was bleeding again. He was dizzy and too tired to protest, when San slipped beneath his arm and told him to rest his weight on his shoulder. The Prince went ahead, riding San's horse to quickly alert the Royal Guard and the medic.

Their wounds were cleaned and treated. The medic made a poultice from a piece of the wild ginseng and slathered it on Seonghwa's wound. His muscles were cooled, then warmed, and gently massaged, as he drank medicinal wine. The Prince was mostly unharmed, just his face was swollen and bruised. The medic assured him it would heal in a few weeks without lasting damage. It hurt to look at him. Seonghwa couldn't stand to see pain on the Prince's beautiful face.

They explained their stories to Yushin and two of the highest ranking guard, who sent a team to investigate the body in the forest. Yushin was furious that Seonghwa and the Prince had taken such foolish, risky action in secret and warned them that the Queen would be troubled by this report. As for the details of the assailant, they noted only that he was tall, muscular, well trained and, according to San, an extremely good rider. Seonghwa was unfamiliar with his language or if he spoke theirs. The Prince was certain it was neither Chinese nor Japanese. There were plenty of bandits for hire, very skilled in riding and archery, from far away lands in the north and west. But as for who would have hired a bandit to kill the Prince, no one could tell. There were too many possibilities.

San was given accommodation in the medical tent. Though he wasn’t injured, it was the most spacious tent after the Prince's, and he was kept warm with plenty of food and wine and his very own brazier. The Prince had promised him a generous sum of riches and trip to the palace, in exchange for his service, which he was quite happy to obtain. 

After the questioning, Prince Hongjoong asked not to be disturbed until morning and quickly retreated to his tent. Seonghwa followed, eager to fall onto his mat and sleep. They quietly changed into their sleep clothes and Seonghwa tried not to wince from the soreness he felt all over. The Prince was visibly shaken, downing a large cup of wine with trembling hands, before collapsing into his bed, the rush of the fight leaving him listless.

Seonghwa started to take his old place at the mat. But something about it didn’t feel quite right. So he sat down at the edge of the Prince's bed instead.

“My Prince,” Seonghwa began, unsure of what he wanted to say. “You should rest. May I tuck you in?”

The Prince looked small, sad. He covered his darkened eye with his arm, which was propped up on his knee, and took a long, shaky breath. 

“I’ve never seen someone die before,” the Prince said. 

Seonghwa felt a deep pang of regret for putting the Prince in this situation. He never should have taken him out to the woods to fight an unknown enemy. It was foolish to position him as a lure for a trained assailant. The Prince had spent his entire life in the palace, learning languages and literatures, maths and sciences, not sword fighting. 

“I’m sorry. I never should have brought you out there. It was an error and I will never forgive myself for it,” Seonghwa replied.

“I wanted to go,” the Prince sighed. “It was my idea.”

“I should have said no.” 

“I would have gone anyway.” Prince Hongjoong huffed. “I’m stubborn. And so naive.”

The warm light of the brazier illuminated the uninjured side of his face. He looked young and sweet, like he was made to be loved and adored, not attacked.

“You were so strong out there. I’m proud of you,” Seonghwa assured him. 

“Strong,” the Prince scoffed. “He took me down with one hit.” 

“He was a trained fighter. And you took him down with one hit. You’re smart, my Prince, and that goes a long way in any situation.”

The Prince’s chin quivered. “There is so much violence out here and I haven’t seen any of it, until now. I don’t know anything about what my people are going through. How can I be a good leader, when I know so little about how bloody and vicious the world really is.”

“I’m sorry,” Seonghwa repeated. “I should have done more to help you feel safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Prince Hongjoong looked at him, tears welling in his eyes. “But what if something happens to you?”

Seonghwa swallowed, hard. His throat felt dry. The Prince had already lost more than most. His father and brother were both taken from him, when he was just a boy. Seonghwa wished he could promise the Prince that they would grow old together. But he couldn't. He'd made a vow to protect the Prince with his life. “I…I can’t say it won’t.”

“I can’t lose you!” The words burst from the Prince’s mouth, pained.

“You have me. Right now. I’m all yours.” Seonghwa moved closer, one hand hovering over the Prince's knee. “And not only because you’re my Prince and I’m your Guardian. If we lived here on this mountain, or anywhere in all of Joseon, I would still be yours.” 

The Prince sniffled, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Sometimes I wish I could give up the throne.”

“No!” Seonghwa insisted, though he’d dreamed of them having a life together, free of the palace. He knew Prince Hongjoong was so much more than the centre of his affections. “The people need you. Truly, you will make an incredible King. Kind and generous, strong and smart. And so loving.”

Suddenly the Prince was climbing into Seonghwa’s lap, arms winding around his neck. “Tell me if you don’t want me,” he whispered. 

Any resistance Seonghwa may have had to the dangers of them being together, melted in the heat of the danger they’d faced that very night. The fragile walls he’d tried to erect around his heart caved in completely. “Of course, I want you,” he answered, sliding a gentle hand along the smooth side of the Prince's face, “more than anything in this world.” He closed the faint distance between them to meet the Prince’s lips in a tender kiss.

“Then let’s not be Prince and Guardian tonight, let’s just be us.”


	14. Chapter 14

The journey back to the palace went smoothly. The skies were clear and there was nary a bump on the road. San was bubbling with excitement to visit the palace as a guest of the Crown Prince. Having saved Prince Hongjoong’s life, he was due a feast and a spectacle. Seonghwa was thankful for him, thankful that San had found them in the woods when he did, and thankful that the Prince, ever the smart and capable leader, had engaged San’s assistance.

Seonghwa felt a deepening sense of unease when the palace came into view. Their time of freedom and adventure on the road was coming to an end. He was going to miss the Hongjoong he’d known out here. As the palace grew near, he held the Prince’s hand and the Prince rested his head on his shoulder. 

They separated as the caravan passed through the palace gates. The Prince put his royal airs on, like a cloak, as he disembarked from the carriage and marched into the palace. Seonghwa watched him go, wishing they’d kissed one last time.

As Yushin and Seonghwa debriefed the Queen and Royal Council on the events that had occurred when they were outside the palace, she quickly became enraged. Two attempts on the Prince’s life had been made and they had brought back no information about who sent the foreign warrior and why. She and the Royal Council grilled them for hours, especially Seonghwa, but he had no answers to give. 

They criticised everything he did and even things he didn’t do. Seonghwa felt ashamed. Had he really let the Prince down? 

Though the Prince had chosen him for the heart he put into everything he did, maybe he should have chosen someone more skilled, more experienced. Someone older and stronger, who wouldn’t get so easily disarmed. Someone who could protect the Prince, rather than needing the Prince to protect him. Seonghwa was deeply disappointed with himself. Maybe people were right about the things they said. He wasn’t worthy of being the Royal Guardian. 

The Queen was incensed that the Prince had disobeyed her command and the entirety of the royal hall could hear her chastising him behind the closed doors of the throne room. When the Prince emerged, he looked angrier than Seonghwa had ever seen him. He followed the Prince’s furious pace all the way to the royal bath, but was stopped at the door by two high ranking guards and instructed to meet Minister Kang for another round of questions. 

Seonghwa was frustrated. The Queen and Council were acting as though he was a suspect, rather than the Prince’s dedicated Royal Guardian. He’d served the Prince faithfully for three years and in the Royal Guard for another three. He would never harm, nor let any harm come to Prince Hongjoong. 

After the interrogation by Minister Kang, Seonghwa was permitted to return to his chamber to dress for the evening celebration. A blessing ceremony, in honour of Prince Hongjoong’s safe return, was scheduled to take place, along with a feast to acknowledge Choi San and his heroic bow that saved the Prince’s life. 

Seonghwa bathed and dressed in fresh, charcoal coloured cotton, his sword cleaned and strapped to his back, as he made his way to the celebration. He hadn’t been granted a moment alone with the Prince since they returned to the palace. The Queen had seen to that. 

When Seonghwa arrived in the throne room, the Prince was seated, on his throne, to the left of the Queen. Seonghwa’s heart nearly stopped. Prince Hongjoong looked beautiful, in dark red silk robes, with a crown of flowers perched atop his head. He gazed at the Prince, hoping that he would notice him. But if the Prince did, he wouldn’t show it. He barely looked in Seonghwa’s direction for the entire duration of the ceremony. 

The festivities moved into the great hall, where an enormous feast was laid out on several long tables. San was honoured with many gifts, including a fine new bow, bundles of silk clothes, and a lacquer box filled with jewels and antique heirlooms from the royal treasury. He was treated to a seat beside the Queen, across from the Prince, and fed his fill of meat and wine and assorted delights. 

Seonghwa stood nearby, unsure of whether he was invited to sit at the royal table while he was technically on guard. Mingi and Yunho were at a table with other high ranking members of the Royal Guard, free to partake since the celebration was not within the hours of their scheduled guard. The Prince noticed and called Seonghwa over to the table, shooing Minister Cho to find a seat elsewhere, so Seonghwa could join him. When Minister Cho sneered, the Prince sharply said that if the day ever came that the Minister took an arrow for him, then he may sit beside him at a feast.

They talked and laughed with San, much like they had at the tavern and in his home. Seonghwa kept the Prince’s plate stocked with meat and dumplings and his favourite vegetables, making sure that the Prince was eating enough, and maybe a little more than enough. Though he could feel the Queen’s gaze on them, the Prince’s smile, especially when his cheeks were stuffed with food, made him happy. 

The feast continued for hours. There were songs and dances and eventually the head courtesan, Jiyong, appeared to invite San and the Prince for relaxation. The happiness Seonghwa had felt, when he had food and the Prince’s attention, quickly faded, once they were walking over to a separate chamber, low lit and well supplied with varieties of alcohol and cannabis, fragrant sweets and flavoured oils. 

San was delighted. He had never seen such breathtaking entertainers as the palace courtesans before. Jiyong graciously gathered some of his finest beauties, among them Yeosang, Wooyoung, and two women, Soojin and Jihyun. San politely took his time deliberating as to which courtesan’s company he would prefer that evening. But Seonghwa, from his watch by the door, noticed that his eyes lingered on Wooyoung, much more frequently than the others. Jiyong told him that he needn’t limit himself to just one, which made San grin and finally choose Wooyoung. 

Then Jiyong turned to the Prince, commenting on how generous it was of the Prince to allow his guest first choice of company. The Prince smiled and said that Wooyoung was a good pick. Fun. Enthusiastic. San would be happy with his choice and, as his honoured guest, San’s happiness was his happiness. 

Seonghwa would have smirked at the Prince’s smooth words, if he hadn’t remembered that the Prince knew, from experience, what he was talking about. Seonghwa’s mind started to spiral, wondering which of the courtesans Prince Hongjoong had slept with. He’d deliberately ignored that information in the past, unwilling to acknowledge what went on during Mingi’s watch. 

“This one”, the Prince said, gesturing to Yeosang, “has a beautiful face, spoiled by hateful mouth. So it’s best to keep his mouth too full to talk.” 

He waved Yeosang over and the courtesan smiled, a lopsided, wicked smile, aimed directly at Seonghwa, as he slithered onto the Prince’s lap. 

Seonghwa’s stomach lurched, like he was going to be sick. His ears and cheeks felt hot, flushed. And his hands immediately curled into fists.

Jiyong poured a cup of water and brought it over to him. “There was a lot of wine at the feast tonight. Why don’t you have a seat.” He ushered Seonghwa towards a large floor cushion. “A guardian should relax too.”

Seonghwa realised he wouldn’t have a clear view of the Prince, if he sat on the cushion. “Thank you, but I’m on duty. I’ll relax when my shift is done.” He gulped down most of the water, eyes trained on Yeosang, who was leaning in to kiss the Prince. 

The Prince turned his head, letting Yeosang’s kiss fall on his cheek. “Fetch me a cup of chrysanthemum wine,” he ordered. “And one for San too. There’s only a few jars of it left from the Double Ninth festival. So drink up!” 

“Yes, my lovely Prince.” Yeosang obeyed, pouring a cup for the Prince and a cup for San. Then he resumed his place by the Prince’s side, running a hand slowly along his thigh. His eyes slid over Seonghwa from top to bottom and back again, before he dove in to kiss the Prince’s neck.

Seonghwa could barely breathe. He felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He hadn’t thought about this. But the Prince had made him no promises, so he had no right to expect him to abstain from other men. Even so, he didn’t want to see it. Especially not with Yeosang. 

Fortunately, Mingi arrived, relieving Seonghwa from his post. He exited the room without a word to the Prince, or San, or anyone. He ran the entire way back to his chamber. 

*

Seonghwa drifted in and out of a light, unsettled sleep. He always slept lightly, keenly attuned to any disturbances, natural and unnatural. Though the Prince’s night guard was quite skilled, Seonghwa took his role as Royal Guardian very seriously. He was responsible for overseeing the Prince’s protection, after all. And he didn’t trust Yeosang. The Prince was smart enough to handle the deceitful courtesan. But Seonghwa still wanted to smash an entire jug of wine over Yeosang’s pretty little head. 

He tossed and turned, the vision of Yeosang and the Prince flashing before his closed eyes, the courtesan slinking into the Prince’s lap, smirking at Seonghwa, as though he belonged there. What was the Prince even thinking? Had Seonghwa imagined everything that transpired between them, outside the palace walls? 

Maybe he was just another pretty face, in a long line of conquests. The Prince could have anyone. He was a fool to believe that he was special to the Prince. He’d been the one to share the tender contents of his heart, but the Prince had given little in return. It hurt more than he expected. The sight of Yeosang, of all courtesans, back in the Prince’s arms. It hurt almost as much as the realisation that he wasn’t special. He was probably just a passing fancy, part of the Prince’s fantasy life beyond the palace. He couldn’t compete with Yeosang, whose face was unspeakably beautiful, and was surely far more skilled in bed play than he was. 

He had no right to ask for the Prince’s fidelity. It was audacious of him to even want it. Soon, the Prince would be married. Though Prince Hongjoong had not expressed interest in having a wife, nor would he be expected to eschew courtesans after marriage, he would never be available to Seonghwa, not in the way Seonghwa desired him, as more than a lover, more than his prince. It was easier to deny his desire, than to taste it, and know what he was missing. 

Seonghwa had just fallen into another uneasy sleep when he quickly woke, startled, as the door to his room slid open. His hand reached for the old dagger beneath his pillow, wrapping his hand around the worn leather hilt, as he sat upright. He blinked in the darkness, making out a silhouette, too small to belong to Mingi or Yunho. The figure took a step into the room and quietly slid the door closed. Seonghwa released his grip on the dagger, relieved to see Prince Hongjoong, clad in a scarlet silk robe and wearing a soft smile. His hair was loose and the robe had slipped from his shoulder, revealing the smooth skin that Seonghwa had beneath his fingertips, just last night. 

The Prince rushed over to the bed and draped himself onto Seonghwa, lips crashing together like a hundred days had passed since they’d seen each other. At first Seonghwa’s heart quickened and he savoured the welcome warmth of the Prince’s tongue. But then ice began to spread through his veins as he remembered that the Prince had just been kissing someone else.

Seonghwa pulled back, appalled. When the Prince leaned in to capture his mouth again, he snapped his head away. What if there were traces of Yeosang on the Prince’s lips? The thought made him absolutely ill. 

“What’s wrong?” Prince Hongjoong whispered.

“Did you at least rinse your mouth between kissing him and kissing me?” Seonghwa hissed.

Prince Hongjoong pouted. “But I didn’t….kiss him.” He cupped Seonghwa’s cheek with his palm. “I let him fawn over me for appearances. That’s all.”

“It appeared as though you were enjoying it,” Seonghwa said, bucking the Prince’s touch. 

The Prince’s eyes narrowed. “Weren’t you the one so concerned about rumours?” 

Seonghwa scoffed.

“I fixed that. So if you have another reason to reject me, let me know.”

“Reject you?” Seonghwa gasped. “I wasn’t the one with another man in my arms tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything with him,” Prince Hongjoong insisted. 

“That’s not what it looked like.” Anger was rising within Seonghwa. He knew it was unwise to speak to the Prince so sharply, but he couldn’t stop himself. He was confused. The Prince had ignored him all day and spent the evening with that wicked courtesan climbing all over him. The Prince was supposed to find a wife and fulfil his duty to his royal lineage. The Prince was in his bed right now and Seonghwa still wanted him as much as ever. But he was was too close to saying something he would regret.

“So? That was the entire point.”

“So?!” Seonghwa closed his eyes and pinched the space between them. “I’m tired,” he said, “please let me sleep.”

“Why?” Prince Hongjoong whined. “Why do you want to sleep without me?”

“Because you didn’t think it would hurt me to see you with him?” Seonghwa’s voice cracked. “When you already made me watch… “ He shook his head and shut his mouth, biting down on his bottom lip. 

The Prince looked at him calmly. “Seonghwa, why did you kiss me that night on the mountain?” 

Seonghwa felt dizzy, like the ground was shifting beneath him. The Prince’s slick mouth had always been more than he could keep up with. He sighed, staring at his pillow. “Because out there on the mountain, it felt like we were just ourselves, no titles, and all the things I’d been holding inside rushed to the surface. I didn’t think of you as the Prince. I saw you as a man who was so bright and so free. You looked so beautiful in the moonlight. I wanted you. And when you called me your heart, I thought you might want me too.”

“I do,” the Prince affirmed. “And I’m still that man.”

Their eyes met.

“But that’s not enough, is it?” Prince Hongjoong said, answering his own question in his mind. He smiled, shyly. “Last night, you told me that you’re mine. Is that still true?” 

Seonghwa nodded. He had nowhere to run. It was better to be honest about what was in his heart. Since his heart is what the Prince saw in him from the start. 

The Prince picked up Seonghwa’s hand and held it between his own. “Then remember that I feel the same way. No matter what happens. As a Prince, I have to keep certain appearances. But inside,” he tapped his chest, “there’s only you.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes widened. The Prince’s confession was more than he’d hoped to hear. He reached for the Prince, sliding a hand along his exposed shoulder and into his hair, urging him forward, into a fiery kiss. The Prince collapsed against him, which only made Seonghwa kiss him more intensely. 

When they finally separated to catch their breaths, Seonghwa pressed his face into the Prince’s neck. “Please, my Prince, not him again.” 

“You have nothing to worry about, believe me,” Prince Hongjoong ran a soothing hand over Seonghwa’s head.

“I do believe you,” Seonghwa said, “but…just not him, okay? Seeing him touch you makes me want to break his hands and smash his face and…” 

“Okay.” A short laugh escaped from the Prince. “Only you may touch me.”

Seonghwa smiled, kissing the Prince’s neck and shoulder. He pulled on the smooth fabric of the Prince’s robe and it fell away easily, revealing more soft skin, that prickled as it met cool air and warm fingers. He traced swirls around the Prince’s chest, following with his tongue.

Prince Hongjoong giggled. “So eager. It’s only been a day.” 

“Too long,” Seonghwa murmured. He slid an arm around the Prince and gently brought him onto his back. The robe opened completely and Seonghwa covered his body with his own. He would never tire of the Prince, warm and naked in his arms. Or of the Prince, softly moaning his name.

*

Seonghwa spent the next morning training. He paid special attention to exercising his grip and re-wrapped his favourite weapons. The next time he defended the Prince’s life, he wouldn’t be so easily disarmed. He also selected a bow, the finest one, carefully tuning it and waxing the string so that it would be in top condition for the Prince when they continued their lessons. 

When it was time to take his post, the Prince was off schedule, somewhere with Yunho. He waited for the Prince to return to Master Choi’s classroom, where he was supposed to be having a lesson on hanmun, or Literary Chinese. The Prince arrived more than twenty minutes late and accepted his scolding blithely. 

Lunch was in the garden house, where the Prince nibbled at his food as he read a book. He’d barely acknowledged Seonghwa, which was a sharp contrast to the open, informal days they’d spent together on the road. And the intimate hours they’d spent together last night. Though Seonghwa had thought it best to keep a bit of distance in public, he didn’t think that distance would extend to the garden house, which had always been their place of solitude, away from staff and guards. The Prince didn’t speak, but he slid his tray of unfinished food over to Seonghwa and curled up with his fluffy orange kitten in his lap, continuing to read. 

You should eat more, my Prince, Seonghwa told him. 

The Prince smiled and dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand. 

Dinner was another feast. Seonghwa stood guard and watched as the Prince, dressed in vibrant blue silk, picked at his food, while San regaled the Queen, once more, with the story of how he met the Prince and Seonghwa in the tavern at the base of Gyeryongsan and how the sacredness of the mountain had called him to live there and brought him to meeting the Prince. Again, the Queen and Royal Ministers asked to hear about how San had saved the Prince’s life. Seonghwa knew this tactic, even if San couldn’t recognise it. They were scouring the story for any inconsistencies. 

When the Queen remarked at how San had succeeded at something even the Prince’s Royal Guardian couldn’t do, Seonghwa blanched. Eyes aimed at him like sharp little knives. He looked to the Prince, but Prince Hongjoong said nothing, firmly setting his chopsticks down and turning his attention to the untouched cup of wine before him. 

_As a Prince, I have to keep certain appearances._

Prince Hongjoong’s own words echoed in Seonghwa’s mind. But he still felt hurt that the Prince didn’t speak up for him. Surely, the Prince knew that he did his very best, would give up his own life to protect him. 

But his best wasn’t good enough. The Prince could have died that night. If it weren’t for San. 

“Seonghwa.”

He startled when the Queen spoke his name. 

“Join us in the west chamber for wine.”

Prince Hongjoong didn’t look at him as they proceeded to the west chamber. An array of fruit and rice wines were presented alongside autumn confections. Seonghwa didn’t dare touch anything. His mother had always told him not to trust food served with dubious intentions. And he wouldn’t allow himself to become intoxicated in the presence of the Queen. 

“Park Seonghwa,” the Queen said, once she and the Prince and Ministers Kang and Cho were seated around a dark wooden table, inlaid with tortoiseshell and mother of pearl. “That is your name, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Queen.” 

“From Jinju-mok, a place with such a long, renowned history. Did your ancestors fight in the Imjin War?”

“Yes, it is even said that Nongae is relative.”

“Is that so?” The Queen raised her eyebrows and smiled. “An important woman in our country’s history.”

“I don’t know for sure, but my grandfather says that proudly.”

The Queen sipped her wine. “Then, following the service of your courageous ancestors, I am pleased to announce that you will be undergoing a six week period of intensive training with the illustrious Master Song, at Heaven Lake.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes flicked over to the Prince. He was unsure of what to say. His chest tightened. Was this a test? Was the Queen trying to see if he would leave the Prince in his time of need? It didn’t make sense. Someone had tried to kill the Prince and now the Queen wanted to send his Royal Guardian away.

The Prince’s face remained calm. His finger circled the rim of his wine cup as he gazed inside. Seonghwa wondered what future he was seeing in there. 

“Thank you, mother. That is a kind and generous offer. I know Seonghwa is honoured to go,” Prince Hongjoong said.

The Queen and company shifted their glances to Seonghwa. 

“Yes, I am honoured. Thank you,” he muttered. 

Seonghwa’s heart sank. Heaven Lake was in Paektusan, a mountain far away, at the northern end of the kingdom. Winters were harsh in that region. Being from the southern end of the peninsula, he was accustomed to milder winters. Sending him away, to be encased in snow and ice, seemed more like a punishment than a reward. Besides, he was bound to the Prince by duty. How could he leave the Prince unprotected? 

“Who…who will guard Prince Hongjoong in my absence?” Seonghwa asked. 

The Queen smirked. “He still has two secondary guards and with all the preparations for the bridal court coming to the palace, I’m certain he will be watched over at all times. I’ve also extended an invitation to San to take the next examination to join the Royal Guard.”

_San?! He was a mountain mystic without formal training. Had he even read The Song of Flying Dragons? Had he studied Master Sun’s Military Methods?_

Seonghwa gritted his teeth and forced a smile. “I see. Then I should prepare myself for travel.”

“Yes, do that,” the Queen responded. “You’re dismissed.”

*

Seonghwa retired to his chamber. He was too stunned and saddened to wait outside the west chamber and seek an audience with Prince Hongjoong. He didn’t want to leave and he couldn’t understand why the Prince was letting him go so easily. Somehow it didn’t seem right to him, being sent away for training when someone had just made an attempt on the Prince’s life. He was the Prince’s Royal Guardian, the Prince needed him. Especially when they hadn’t a clue about who had tried to have him killed. 

He couldn’t sleep. His mind replayed each and every one of his errors in slow motion. The Prince was alive, thanks to San. The Queen had certainly emphasised that detail enough. The whole palace was praising San. While Seonghwa didn’t begrudge him the glory he was due, it served as a reminder that he was not good enough. Prince Hongjoong deserved the very best guardian and though he strove to be that guardian, it was clear to everyone that he fell short. The Queen and the Royal Council had recorded his actions in triplicate, picking apart each decision, pointing out every mistake. And the Prince hadn’t once defended him. Perhaps that was the part that stung the most. He couldn’t bear to have the Prince lose confidence in him. 

Seonghwa still had a light burning when he heard the Prince returned to his chamber. He waited, a few minutes, giving the Prince time to get settled before he quietly tapped at the door between their bedrooms. The Prince called him in but barely glanced up from the table where he sat with paper and ink in front of him. 

“My Prince, I see that you’re busy, so I won’t take up your time.” Seonghwa said, suddenly uncomfortable, as though he didn’t belong there, when in fact he’d spent many hours in the Prince’s bedroom. 

“Mmm,” Prince Hongjoong responded, brow furrowed in concentration, pink tongue poking from the corner of his mouth, as he made careful strokes with his pen.

Seonghwa took a few steps closer, curious at what the Prince was writing. It looked like hanja, at a level far more complex than he understood. “I, ah, just want to thank you for letting me go to train with Master Song.”

“It’s a good opportunity,” the Prince said.

“Yes, I understand. I hope to improve my skills and return to show you a better side of me.”

“I’m sure you will.” 

Seonghwa lingered, half heartedly holding on to the hope that the Prince would ask him to stay. But perhaps the Queen was right. He didn’t deserve his place at the Prince’s side. And the Prince was starting to see that too. Seonghwa bowed deeply. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more to protect you.”

“I trust that you did everything you could.” Prince Hongjoong paused his writing, but still didn’t look up. “So I need you to trust that I made the right choice when I selected you as my Royal Guardian.”

“Okay,” Seonghwa replied. “Thank you.”

The Prince resumed his writing. “You’re welcome.” 

Seonghwa returned to his room and prepared himself for bed. He tried to distract himself with his favourite book of poetry, but he wound up clutching the book to his chest and falling into a tense, worried sleep. Some time later he woke to the sound of the Prince speaking in a hushed voice. He reached for his dagger and crept towards the door to the Prince’s room. If there was a disturbance of some sort, he would be ready. 

He slid the door open and the Prince turned to look at him with surprise. 

“Is something wrong?” Seonghwa asked. 

“No,” the Prince said, holding up a hand to hush him. He turned back to Mingi, thanked him, and slid the door shut between them. Then he looked at Seonghwa with dismay. “What are you doing up? And with that rusty thing?”

“I heard something,” Seonghwa’s eyes followed the Prince as he came closer. “You know I’m a light sleeper.” 

The corners of the Prince’s mouth twitched, into what was almost a smile. “I know,” he said, reaching to take the dagger from Seonghwa’s hand. He held it up to the light, examining it. “Why do you sleep with this dull, old knife?”

“Habit.” 

The Prince nodded, twirling the dagger to point the tip at Seonghwa’s throat. He smiled sharply and feigned slicing Seonghwa’s bedclothes open. Then he sighed, tossing the dagger onto a nearby cushion. “I’ve developed a sleeping habit too.” He slid both arms around Seonghwa’s waist. “Come to bed with me.” 

Seonghwa let the Prince drag him to his big, plush bed. But they were too drained to do more than hold each other. Though it felt good to have Prince Hongjoong close to him, there was a certain sadness that Seonghwa couldn’t shake. He was certain the Prince felt it too. 

“My Prince,” Seonghwa kissed his temple. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“I know,” Prince Hongjoong replied. “I would like you to stay.”

“Then why are you letting me go?”

“Because I’ve opposed my mother too many times. She’s doing this in retaliation.” He threaded his fingers in between Seonghwa’s. “And I don’t want you in the middle of it.”

“She hates me?” Seonghwa asked, stunned. The Queen had unleashed harsh words upon him before, but he didn’t think she would actually try to get rid of him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She wants to control me.” Prince Hongjoong sighed. “And she’s doing that by taking away something that I care about.”

“Is it me?” 

The Prince scowled, cutely, and thumped Seonghwa’s chest with his free hand. “Yes, you turnip.”

Seonghwa grabbed the Prince’s hand, to prevent him from using it as a tiny weapon again. But the Prince opened his mouth and bared his teeth, threatening to bite, so Seonghwa released his grip. They both laughed, diffusing some of the sorrow that had been looming over them like a long shadow, since they'd returned to the palace.

As their laughter subsided, Seonghwa planted a row of kisses atop Prince Hongjoong’s head. “Try not to forget me while I’m gone.”

“Royal Guardian is a lifetime appointment,” the Prince said, “so in the scope of that, six weeks away will be next to nothing.”


	15. Chapter 15

The rain returned to match Seonghwa’s gloomy mood. Prince Hongjoong was uncharacteristically quiet as well. They were spending the afternoon in the sanctuary of the garden house, savouring their last days together before the weeks they would spend apart. Six weeks out of a lifetime wasn’t much at all, but it felt cruel now that Seonghwa had finally come to know the taste, sweet as pears, and the texture, soft as petals, of the Prince’s lips. 

The hours in the garden house were as close to peace as they could find. Seonghwa was still reeling from the hard hits of palace politics. But he wanted to treasure the time he had left with the Prince, before he had to leave for Heaven Lake.

They played music together, strumming one melancholy tune after another, until Yunho interrupted with a delivery. The parcel was a smooth lacquer box, with abalone inlay in a floral motif. When Seonghwa inquired as to the source of the Prince’s gift, Yunho said that the Prince himself arranged it. The Prince thanked him for his help and said that he would be compensated extra, since it was outside of his regular hours. Then he brought the box to the main table and sat down on a cushion, motioning for Seonghwa to sit beside him.

“This is for you,” Prince Hongjoong said. 

“Really?” Seonghwa’s eyes widened. “What is the occasion?”

“Do I need one?” The Prince smirked. 

Seonghwa smiled. “Of course not. Thank you, my Prince. This is very kind of you.”

“You don’t even know what it is yet. Open it.”

Gingerly, Seonghwa lifted the lid with both hands. Inside were two shining silver daggers. 

“My Prince!” Seonghwa gasped. “They’re beautiful.” He reached inside and lifted them up, examine the fine metalwork more closely. The hilt of each dagger was inscribed with two sets of hanja. On the left side, he saw the syllables for the first half of their names. On the right side, he saw the second syllables. It was traditional for a woman to give this as gift to her husband, before he went off to battle. 

“Can’t have you defending me with that sad blade you keep under your pillow.” Prince Hongjoong laughed. 

Seonghwa placed the daggers on the table and reached for the Prince with both hands, gently cupping his face, guiding him closer, and kissing him deeply. 

“Thank you,” he breathed, when they parted.”This means so much to me.”

Though he already had the finest weaponry the palace could offer, the symbolism of this gift made it even more precious to him. His heart swelled with words he wanted to say, but didn’t know how. What could he even say to express how greatly touched he was by the Prince’s gesture. True to his word, the Prince was promising himself to Seonghwa. This was a vow of fidelity.

“I wish I had something to give you,” Seonghwa said.

“You’ve already given me your heart,” the Prince responded, his voice small, his gaze soft. “That is all I want.” 

“It’s yours.” Seonghwa covered the Prince’s hands with his own and brought them to his chest. “Always has been.”

*

That night they decided to stay in the garden house. It was as close to outside the palace they could get. They took a soak in the royal bath, ate a light dinner, and cuddled under the blankets, while Seonghwa read poetry aloud. 

The Prince liked it when he used his southern dialect, said he could get hard just from the sound of his voice. Seonghwa decided to put this to the test by deepening his voice and speaking directly into the Prince’s ear. He knew for certain that it worked, when the Prince groaned and reached for his hand, sliding it across the bulge in his bedclothes.

They kissed and Seonghwa began to search for a way beneath the Prince’s bedclothes, but the Prince stopped him. 

“Wait, I want to show you something.” Prince Hongjoong gave him a quick kiss before sliding out from under the blankets and crawling across the bed. 

Seonghwa watched his ass as he went, thanking the heavens that the Prince was so well blessed. 

Prince Hongjoong climbed off the bed and opened a nearby chest. He removed a smaller chest and brought it back onto the bed with him. 

“What’s this?” Seonghwa asked, as the Prince opened the lid. 

“My special collection.”

“Of what?”

The Prince pulled out a book and set it on the bed in front of them. He opened it to somewhere in the middle and waited for Seonghwa’s reaction.

“Oh,” Seonghwa said, a wide grin spreading across his face as he saw a detailed illustration of two men engaged in penetration. “You like that?” He asked. 

The Prince tossed him a coy smile and flipped the page. “Heavenly rain,” he said, pointing at the hanja title. “This position is nice.”

“You’ve tried it?” Seonghwa asked, hoping his sudden nervousness wasn’t audible. He knew the Prince was more experienced, but exactly how and with whom wasn’t something he was ready to find out. 

“This way,” the Prince said, tapping the drawing of the man inserting himself into another man. “But not that way.” He pointed to the to the other man. 

Seonghwa was surprised to hear that, though he wasn’t sure why. He’d only just begun to learn what the Prince liked in bed and so far that had been limited to hands and mouths. Of course, it had crossed his mind that the Prince might want to take him, or maybe be taken, but he’d been waiting for, well, a moment like this where they could figure it all out. Truthfully, it didn’t matter what the Prince preferred as long as it was him. 

“What do you like?” Prince Hongjoong asked. 

“You,” Seonghwa replied, kissing his cheek. 

The Prince laughed. “And how would you like to have me?”

“Well if you don’t like that way,” he pointed to the drawing of the penetrated man. “Then let’s do what you want.”

“I didn’t say I don’t like it,” Prince Hongjoong corrected. “I’ve never actually tried it.”

“Really?” Seonghwa was doubly surprised. Even he’d tried it, only once and it hadn’t been something he’d wanted to try again. Until now. If the Prince desired it. 

Prince Hongjoong smiled, a tight, bashful smile. “I want to try it. But not with any courtesan. I’ve been saving that to do with someone special.”

“Should I go get Mingi?” Seonghwa laughed.

“Ew! No!” The Prince smacked his shoulder and pouted. “This was supposed to be romantic and you’re ruining it.” 

“I’m sorry, my Prince,” Seonghwa said, kissing him in apology. He lowered his voice and brushed his lips against the Prince’s ear. “If you’ll have me, I’d love to be that someone special.”

Prince Hongjoong trembled, slightly, as his skin prickled beneath Seonghwa’s sweet words. His smile spread across his whole face. “Yes.” 

Seonghwa grinned. He’d just thanked the heavens for the Prince’s beautiful ass and was now being rewarded with it.

  
They moved the book and the box to the table, but not before the Prince sifted through rings and plugs and straps and a rather intimidating jade dildo, to remove a small pot, which he said was jelly, to help things move smoothly. Seonghwa was familiar with jelly, at least. So he could start there and someday work up to the other things in the box. 

Though Seonghwa had been happy with everything they’d done so far, there was a part of him that had worried about whether he was a good enough lover for the Prince. The palace courtesans were highly skilled and Seonghwa’s experience had been limited to a hyung in his village and a scant handful of kisaeng he’d visited over the years. He’d never bedded someone he really cared for. He’d never cared for someone until the Prince. So he wanted this to be perfect. 

They kissed. Seonghwa began to remove the Prince’s bedclothes. It was now his turn to tremble as anticipation mounted.

“Relax,” the Prince said. “I’m the one who is supposed to be nervous.”

“Ah, I can’t help it.” Seonghwa sighed, nuzzling his face into the Prince’s hair and wrapping his arms around the Prince’s waist. “I’ve spent most of my time training, which requires me to suppress my desires. And now that you’ve opened them up, I’m afraid to overwhelm you with how much I want you. And want to make you happy.”

“Really?” Prince Hongjoong smiled, another shy smile. It was a look that Seonghwa absolutely adored. 

Yes,” Seonghwa confirmed, “I daydream about you all the time. Your face, your body, that certain expression you have when you’re up to something.” He laughed. “And the way you get shy when I tell you what’s in my heart.” 

“Seonghwa,” the Prince whispered, kissing him.“You make me very happy.” He giggled. “And it would make me even happier if you would take me right now. I’m yours.”

When Seonghwa had imagined this scene, he’d imagined that he would invoke all the discipline his training had taught him. He would use it to go slow and put the Prince’s pleasure above his own. He would kiss and touch him for as long as it took, to feel relaxed and ready. But right now all he could see was the Prince flat on his back, naked, legs flung over his shoulders, begging Seonghwa to come inside him. 

Seonghwa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. In his deepest voice he said, “undress me.” 

The Prince raised an eyebrow in response to the order. He wasn’t used to taking commands. Yet he began to remove Seonghwa’s bedclothes, being careful of his bandages. 

“You’re beautiful,” Seonghwa smiled, tucking the Prince’s hair behind his right ear.

“So are you,” the Prince returned his smile.

Though they’d been smiling at each other, like two fools, all night, Seonghwa had never been more grateful for the Prince’s smile. Or the sensual touch of the Prince’s delicate hands, which roamed along his chest, sending trails of pleasure through his entire body. Seonghwa grabbed the Prince by his hips and pulled him forward, onto his back, then he dove in, pressing him into the blanket, and kissing him with all the passion he’d stored away. All that he’d wanted to give the Prince, for so long, spilled over. He kissed him breathless and then moved down to his neck, nipping at the skin and at his collarbones. Seonghwa travelled his chest, spiralling around the most sensitive spots with his tongue. Then he kissed his way down to the Prince’s belly, breathing in the comfort of the slight softness there. Whatever nerves he felt began to dissipate as he concentrated on the Prince’s skin.

“Please,” the Prince gasped, “More.”

“Look who is eager now,” Seonghwa grinned, wrapping one hand around the Prince’s hardness, while the other slid back across his perineum. 

The Prince moaned, his thighs parting instantly and his hips rotating forward. 

“So eager,” Seonghwa laughed. He reached for the jelly pot and carefully coated two fingers, adding more than was probably necessary. Then he grabbed a pillow. “Up.” 

Prince Hongjoong obeyed, planting his feet on the bed and lifting his ass so Seonghwa could slide the pillow beneath it. Once he was comfortable, he brought his knees back, opening himself to Seonghwa’s touch. “Please,” the Prince gasped again, as Seonghwa’s fingers met his entrance and lingered there, unmoving. 

Seonghwa leaned down to capture the Prince’s lips, sweeping in with his tongue at the same time he pressed his fingers inside. The Prince writhed beneath him, little gasps of pleasure rising out of him. If it weren’t for the box of toys, Seonghwa might not have believed that this was the Prince’s first time letting someone inside him. He must have practiced, to be able to relax and take his fingers so easily. Seonghwa continued to massage him, until the Prince let him know that he was ready for more. 

“Seonghwa,” Prince Hongjoong whined. 

“Yes, my Prince?” 

“I want you. I’m ready.”

Seonghwa reached for the the jelly pot and coated himself. He was achingly hard, watching the Prince undulate with his touch. Once he was good and slick, he lined himself up, easing his fingers out as he eased his dick in. The Prince moaned at the sudden change in pressure. Seonghwa was only head deep when he paused, rubbing the Prince’s thighs, giving him a moment to get adjusted. 

Watching his face shift from apprehension to ecstasy was intoxicating. It cracked open something inside Seonghwa that he never knew existed. Previously, he’d treated sex as a release, an occasional function of his human body. But as he moved deeper inside Prince Hongjoong, he felt completely connected to him, to his own body, and to heaven and earth around them. They were moving in unison, a perfect pair, seeking and finding shared riches, of tenderness and adoration. 

Seongwha felt the entirety of his Prince, wrapped around him, taking him in, soothing him. There was something reaching into his heart and releasing a rush of emotions he’d been hiding for so long. All his years of discipline and denial were dissolving. 

He was close to the edge. His hips faltered and he began to slow down. He wanted to give as much as he was getting from Prince Hongjoong. 

“Don’t stop,” the Prince murmured, reaching up to hold Seonghwa’s face as he kissed him. “You feel amazing.”

“But I’m too close,” Seonghwa panted. 

“Then come inside me. I want you to.”

Seonghwa held the Prince close, burying his face in his neck as he picked up the pace again, riding a wave of deep affection he’d never felt before. His heart was pounding in his chest, tears pricked at the corners of his eyes and trickled down onto Prince Hongjoong’s skin. Seonghwa moaned softly as he released.

It took a moment for Seonghwa to catch his breath. And another moment for him to slide out and reach for the Prince, stroking him until he spilled, hot and messy, all over his own stomach. He licked the Prince clean and then collapsed beside him, utterly exhausted.

Prince Hongjoong nestled himself in Seonghwa’s arms and ran a thumb over both his cheeks, erasing the tracks of his tears. “Are you okay?”

“Sorry,” Seonghwa sighed. “I’m just happy. Really happy.”

The Prince smiled. “I’m happy too.”

  
*

Seonghwa walked slowly through the long palace halls. It was late and instead of holding a sleeping Prince, in the Prince’s large, comfortable bed, he was on his way to meet Jiyong. He bristled inside and the thought of seeing Yeosang in the courtesan chambers, but this meeting was important. There wasn’t much he could do from Heaven Lake, to find whoever had tried to kill the Prince, so he needed eyes and ears throughout the palace. And the courtesans knew most of the palace secrets. 

When he arrived, Jiyong greeted him personally and guided him to a small room where they could speak without disturbance. Seonghwa wasn’t sure if he could trust Jiyong. Everyone in the palace worked for the Queen. But his only concern was the Prince’s safety, so he would pay his entire salary, well, what he didn’t send to his parents, for information about the innermost dealings of the palace. After all, someone had known their travel schedule well enough to send an assailant to ambush them. 

Seonghwa made his proposal. If the money wasn’t enough, he would find more. He would do whatever it took, to ensure the Prince’s safety and bring his enemy to justice. 

Jiyong listened intently, flicking out an elegant hand to fan out his vibrant pink robe. “I see,” he said, with a bemused smile. “So you are in love with him.”

“What?” Seonghwa blurted, worry brewing in his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to,” Jiyong chuckled. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me. Courtesans keep many secrets. Our work depends on it.” 

“And spread many rumours,” Seonghwa added, darkly.

Jiyong raised his eyebrows and nodded once. “Point taken. But that’s not what this is about. You want my help and you’re willing to pay for it, is that correct?”

Seonghwa gritted his teeth. He didn’t have much choice. “Yes.”

Jiyong smiled. “Then you should understand that two of my favourite things are money and a good love story.” He picked up the teapot. “Nothing warms the heart like ginger tea, especially as the days and nights grow colder.” He poured the tea into two cups. “I’ve an excellent collection of romantic tales here, should you ever want to borrow any books. People tend to assume that erotic books are what’s popular, but truthfully most of us desire romance, though we may not admit it. I’ve often considered writing a book myself. The story of how I met my husband would excite maidens and wives across the kingdom and become a bestseller.” Jiyong closed his eyes, blew on his teacup and took a quiet sip. “Ah, that’s delicious.” 

“You want me to help you sell your book?” Seonghwa asked.

“I don’t know why it is, but they adore a good male romance. Our story has is all. A handsome man, the only son, from a wealthy family, full of renowned artists and scholars. He was expected to make a high profile marriage to some noble person, but he gave everything up to be with the one he loves, a lowly orphan who rose to become a rich courtesan, overseeing all the love and lust that happens in the palace.” Jiyong clasped his hands over his heart. “True love, if you’re lucky enough to experience it, is worth sacrifice.” 

“That sounds like an amazing story.” Seonghwa sipped his tea, wondering what this all had to do with protecting the Prince.

Jiyong’s eyes roamed Seonghwa’s face. “Falling in love with a Prince is complicated. But Prince Hongjoong is a very good man. He deserves to be loved for his heart, not just his crown.” 

“The Prince will soon be married,” Seonghwa cautioned. 

“Yes, but not for love,” Jiyong countered. “So, tell me, how did it happen?”

Seonghwa adjusted his legs. It was uncomfortable to sit with his ankles crossed, so he moved both feet to one side. Then he took another sip of tea. The heat and spice were making him hot. He was clearly stalling and Jiyong knew it. 

“Listen, you came to me for help,” Jiyong added. “And now you know my price.” 

Seonghwa cleared his throat. He wasn’t sure what to say. So he started at the beginning. “I was ten when the King and Crown Prince died. The same age as Prince Hongjoong. My family came all the way from Jinju to mourn at the palace. That was the first time I saw him. He looked so small, so young to have suffered such a tremendous loss and be burdened with the responsibility of leading the entire country. From that moment, I decided that I would dedicate myself to keeping him safe from harm. I trained, every day, with the singular focus of making it into the Royal Guard. At sixteen I passed the examination and on the day of my acceptance ceremony, I finally met him. He came to congratulate the new members personally and when he looked into my eyes, I had the exact same feeling as when I first saw him. So I spent the next three years earning a place in the top tier of guards, from which he would choose his Royal Guardian. And, as you know, he chose me.”

Jiyong smiled. “How fortunate to recognise your soulmate at such a young age.” 

Soulmate? The word surprised Seonghwa. He’d never thought of such a thing, though he’d read about it in books. Wasn’t it just an element of fantasy? Added for poetic expression? Even if it were somehow true, why did it take so long for the Prince to recognise him? 

As if reading his mind, Jiyong spoke again. “Recognising and accepting are two different things, of course. Perhaps you told yourself that the Prince would never love you back. He’s the ascendant King of our country, set to be married to some dreadful noblewoman or another.”

Seonghwa frowned into his tea. Was the point of all this to remind him that he was a fool? 

“I imagine if I were a prince, I might worry that true love would never reciprocate. For who would be true enough to see past the heavy crown? Ah, such a sweet yet sorrowful story.” Jiyong sighed. “Then along came a faithful guardian. I can see why our Prince fell in love with you.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes lit up. “How do you know that he…?”

“I don’t,” Jiyong grinned. “Not in an official capacity. But anyone can see that you’re special to him.” He laughed. “The way he guards you like a cat protecting its favourite toy.”

“What?” Seonghwa scoffed, certain that Jiyong was playing some sort of game with him. 

“Your heart really is pure, isn’t it?” Jiyong continued to laugh. “He’s the reason why my courtesans don’t approach you. In fact, he rarely summons them for himself since you became his guardian. We all assumed you’ve been keeping him well satisfied.”

Seonghwa felt his ears grow warm and surely redden. He was embarrassed to hear how ingrained the rumours about him and the Prince were. From the sound of things, the entire palace must have considered them lovers since selection day. 

“But to become lovers is expected,” Jiyong mused. “The Prince and his Guardian. It sounds like an old story, doesn’t it? I’m sure I’ve read that one somewhere. And with your handsome face, of course people like to imagine that story coming to life. But what we need is something pure, something that matches the innocence of your heart.” Jiyong poured more tea into their cups. “This journey to the palace when you were ten years old. That’s it. That’s just the thing. How’s your wound healing, by the way?”

“Um, fine. It’s getting better,” Seonghwa answered. 

“No, it’s not,” Jiyong corrected him. “It’s more romantic to suffer. Feign a bit more pain, always insist upon the politest form of speech when anyone speaks of the prince, and, oh, we’ll create some evidence of a lost love, a sweet village girl from back home, who still sends you love letters, though you’ve promised yourself to service of the crown.” 

“Why? What is all this for?” Seonghwa asked. “I just want to find who is after the Prince.”

Jiyong looked at him with fond exasperation. “Because changing your image is the first step to accessing more information. Who is more sympathetic? The Prince’s handsome lover who wields undeserved influence over him? Or the Prince’s devoted guardian who sacrificed his own happiness to keep our sole heir to the throne safe from harm?”

“Is this how you’ll help me?” 

“Yes, of course. This is what I do”, Jiyong assured him. “I’ll take care of your reputation and we shall see what locks and keys we find in the palace.” 

  
*

As the days whirled by, Seonghwa spent as much time with Prince Hongjoong as possible. He ordinarily spent most of his hours with the Prince. But as their time was now limited, to the week or so that remained for making his travel arrangements to Heaven Lake, he didn’t want to miss a moment together. 

The Prince spent his days on learning lessons, including scholarly studies with Master Choi and archery training with Seonghwa. But at night, he gave lessons, sharing what he knew about giving and receiving pleasure. They shared the same bed at night, enjoying each other’s bodies as often as they could take it, exploring all different ways to touch and taste, until they fell asleep, exhausted and elated. Seonghwa’s favourite way was any way he could kiss the Prince, while inside him, because that was what made him feel like his heart was about to burst from happiness. 

The Prince took him as well. It felt much better than the dry, uncomfortable first time he had, bent over for a village hyung, before he left to join the Royal Guard. He’d never tried it again since, so it was a surprise to discover how good the Prince was at _all_ positions.

Seonghwa couldn’t say which he liked better, falling asleep or waking up with the Prince. Both felt like being wrapped in a cloud of affection, wherein the world became the Prince’s soft skin and the scent of his hair, which reminded Seonghwa faintly of sweetened rice water. He couldn’t think of a sound he liked more than the Prince’s sleepy giggle, a contrast to his usual open, hearty laughter. 

This morning, that sound was a signal. The Prince had woken up to feel Seonghwa pressed against his cheeks. It no longer embarrassed him, not when the Prince giggled and stretched, welcoming that same hardness Seonghwa had once tried to hide. 

“Morning,” Seonghwa chuckled, lifting his head to kiss the Prince’s bare shoulder.

“Morning,” Prince Hongjoong replied, shifting his hips back and bringing one leg forward, opening himself to Seonghwa. “Slip it in,” he whispered. 

Seonghwa smiled, gliding a hand along the Prince’s chest and down to his hip, where he slightly tilted him, to the perfect angle. He smoothed the Prince’s hair aside, to reveal more of his neck and kissed the sensitive spot behind his ear, eliciting another giggle, as he lined himself up at the Prince’s entrance. 

“Wait,” Seonghwa said, his voice husky, as he reached over to find the small pot of jelly on the table beside the bed. He knocked the lid off with two fingers and reached inside to scoop up some of the viscous material, which he used to slick himself, and the Prince, so he could slide in easily. 

Prince Hongjoong turned his head to give Seonghwa a sloppy, sweet kiss, letting a low moan escape as Seonghwa buried himself inside. They’d just enjoyed a round before sleep, which could only have been four or five hours ago, but one of Seonghwa’s strongest skills was stamina and the Prince had yet to decline anything he had to give. 

Seonghwa moved at a leisurely pace, enjoying their pleasurable awakening to the fullest. What he couldn’t express well in words, he tried to say with his body. It was a language they shared. And soon they would have only words, only sealed letters to express their mutual affection. 

But Seonghwa froze when he heard a commotion coming from the front chamber. It was the Queen. And she sounded angry. 

He pulled out and sat up. Before he could find his bedclothes, the Prince was pushing him, up and off of the bed. The floor was warm but his naked body was cold, as he stumbled behind a three panelled screen nearby.

The door to the Prince’s bedchamber slid open with a bang.

“What is this?!” The Queen shouted. “How dare you undermine me, you ungrateful brat!” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. But if you want to speak with me, arrange it through my guards,” Prince Hongjoong replied. 

“Watch your tone. A mother needen’t make an appointment to speak with her son.” 

“A mother should be mindful of her son’s role in this family and in this country. Would you burst into my bedroom when I’m King?”

The Queen scoffed. “Perhaps twenty-two is too young to crown a King.”

“I’ve been King since I was ten,” Prince Hongjoong said, icily. 

The room was quiet. Seonghwa prayed the Queen wouldn’t hear his teeth chattering. He didn’t want to make things worse for the Prince.

“A letter from Master Song just arrived, accepting your invitation to the palace. It seems that the day after my letter arrived, requesting that he train your Royal Guardian, he received a letter from you, thanking him and asking if he would come stay here, so that you may learn from him as well.”

“This is excellent news, though I would have preferred to hear it over breakfast.” 

“You did this for him,” the Queen chided. “Is this really the son I raised? One who would subvert his own mother for a childish infatuation?”

“I’m not childish. Stop treating me like a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. Your actions show that you don’t possess half the wisdom your father had. You want to be King? Then focus on making a good marriage instead of carrying on with that boy.”

“You were the one that raised me as a second son. When my father was here, he took me hunting and sailing, he was teaching me to become as skilled a warrior as he was. Every King and Prince in our royal line has known how to fight. And since he’s no longer here to teach me, and you refuse to let me learn, I had to take it upon myself to ask Master Song.” 

“You have the Royal Guard and an entire military to fight for you.”

“Only if I never leave the palace. But when I was out there, beyond the walls, I saw the King I want to be.”

“You were almost killed out there.”

“And yet I felt safe because I have Seonghwa. I have the most incredible Royal Guardian, who would not only lay down his life for me, but inspires me with his courageous heart.” 

The Queen was silent for a long moment. Her voice softened when she spoke again. “Your father was a brave man.”

“I want to be brave too,” Prince Hongjoong said. 

The Queen sighed. “You’ve always been too clever for your own good. That’s what your father loved most about you. I was always afraid you would get yourself hurt or in trouble, running after your older brother, figuring out how to make fireworks by the time you were eight. I was so mad at your father for letting you loose in the armoury.” 

“Mother, I respect your guidance and the work you’ve done as regent. And I hope that you can trust me to become a great leader for our people.”

The Queen nodded. “Very well, my son. I will make arrangements for Master Song’s accommodations here at the palace.”

After the door slid shut, Seonghwa stepped out from behind the screen, cold but incredulous. The Prince was standing, in a thick, padded robe, which he opened for Seonghwa to seek warmth. They embraced. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Seonghwa asked. 

“Because I didn’t know if it would work. And I didn’t want to get your hopes up, in case I couldn’t make it happen.”

“Your mind,” Seonghwa gushed, stroking the Prince’s hair as he gazed into his eyes. “You’re amazing. Thank you.”

Prince Hongjoong tilted his head and smiled, shyly. 


	16. Chapter 16

Winter arrived, covering the palace with a blanket of powdery snow. Seonghwa didn’t mind. It meant that the outdoor paths around the palace were emptier, making it easier for Prince Hongjoong to slip his little fingers out from the warmth of his coat and thread them between Seonghwa’s. He did it behind an old oak tree near the schoolroom, underneath the gazebo in the east garden, even beside the large stone sundial that was in direct view of the main entryway to the great hall. Though Seonghwa had come to know the Prince’s body in every way he desired, the subtle thrill of holding his hand, amidst the fresh, cold air and high, pale sun made him feel as close to free as they could get, inside the palace.

When Seonghwa had newly joined the Royal Guard, he’d once been surprised by the Prince as he was on watch outside the royal banquet hall. Back then, the Prince was small enough to walk on top of the snow, his footsteps too light to break the surface. Being from the far south, Seonghwa hadn’t been well trained in winter conditions. He hadn’t known much about the various types and textures of snow, or that it was possible to traverse the snow without it making any sound. Amused that he’d startled Seonghwa enough for his hand to fly to his sword, the Prince had laughed and offered him a tangerine. It was the first time Seonghwa had heard him laugh and the bright, happy sound was imprinted on his heart. 

The Prince had grown since then. He wasn’t any taller, but his face and body had filled out. His footsteps were now heavy enough to break the snow. But his laugh was still the same. Seonghwa liked to hear it echo across the peaceful winter scenery, especially when the Prince was laughing because of him. Seonghwa wasn’t particularly witty or well-spoken, but if it earned him a glimpse of the Prince’s sweet smile, he would do anything, even let the Prince kiss him while they were waiting for Master Song at the archery pavilion. Luckily, Seonghwa now knew the sound of snow cracking beneath footsteps and he turned away, just before Master Song entered. His quick reflexes elicited a sly smile from the Prince, who promptly turned to receive the old Master’s greeting. 

Years of training had taught them both how to behave in public. For Seonghwa it was because he needed to keep his composure in battle. For Prince Hongjoong it was because he was a Prince and responsible for the well-being of an entire country. Though trained in different skills, they were both capable of maintaining focus on Master Song’s lesson, and not on each other. Of course, Seonghwa noticed certain things, like how the Prince’s shirt stretched, tight, across his chest as he drew his bow, and how he wore a tiny smirk, just before releasing his arrow. But Seonghwa managed to contain himself and out performed the Prince in every measure. 

Though Prince Hongjoong understood that he was leagues behind Seonghwa in bow, sword, and every other skill they were learning, it didn’t stop him from pouting in the solitude of his own chambers. He lamented the fact that he was far behind even the average soldier and that he entertained no hope of ever defeating Seonghwa in combat. What would the people think of a King who couldn’t stand beside his own warriors? 

“My Prince, you do your best fighting with your mind. The best strategy is to avoid the conditions that lead to war. I’m certain you will excel at that,” Seonghwa said, coaxing Prince Hongjoong to dress for dinner by picking up the garments he’d strewn about the room and offering one made of deep indigo silk. 

“But how will I do that without real experience? Not everything can be learned from books,” the Prince whined, brow furrowed, lips plush and downturned, accepting the garment as though he were accepting defeat. 

Seonghwa smiled, bemused, and piled the rest of the garments over a painted wooden chest. He turned back to the Prince and asked, “would it make you happy if I let you win one round?”

“No,” Prince Hongjoong huffed. Then a soft half-smile appeared on his face. “But maybe you could hold me down and kiss me. That would make me very happy.”

Seonghwa raised his eyebrows. “In front of Master Song?”

“You could say it’s your special tactic for subduing an enemy,” the Prince grinned. 

“And fight like a courtesan?” Seonghwa asked, instantly regretting his words when he saw the Prince’s face fall. 

“I guess I’ve been around more courtesans than soldiers,” Prince Hongjoong said, bitterly. 

“I didn’t mean anything by that,” Seonghwa clarified. “You’re learning very quickly. I have no doubt that you’ll become a skilful fighter, if you so desire.” 

He took a step closer, hands rising to cup the Prince’s cheeks. Their eyes met and in the dark, rich hue of his gaze, he saw that his Prince needed affection. Prince Hongjoong was smart and confident, which caused those around him to forget that he was a young man, who also worried and who flourished with tender care. All the silks in the world could clothe his body but not warm his heart. 

Seonghwa tilted his head, leaning down to gently brush the Prince’s lips with his own. “What do you most desire?” 

Prince Hongjoong stared at him, breath rising and falling rapidly in his chest. His lips were slightly parted and shiny from being freshly kissed. He looked as though he was searching for the words he wanted to say, but whatever those words were, they disappeared as his eyes flickered to Seonghwa’s mouth. He smiled, a sulky smile that he reserved for when he’d reached his limit and could no longer conceal his feelings behind persuasive language.

While Seonghwa was more skilled with weapons, the Prince was a master with words. It was a rare occasion that he struggled to speak. And yet it was him, Park Seonghwa, hardly a poet, who’d rendered the Prince incapable of making a clever retort.

Seonghwa chuckled as he pressed into the Prince, gently guiding him down to the bed. “You’re cute when you’re speechless,” he teased, pinning the Prince beneath him with ease.

Prince Hongjoong bit his lower lip as he laughed, soundlessly, and his eyes curved into smiles. 

Seonghwa’s heart swelled. It was only a matter of time before one of them gave voice to what they already knew. And while he didn’t need to hear it to believe that it was true, it was what he most desired from the Prince. 

********

A streak of bitter cold whipped through the land. Master Song, unaffected by the sudden drop in temperature, continued to hold outdoor training sessions. The Prince refused to back down or even complain. He stood by Seonghwa’s side, teeth chattering, slender fingers reddened from the unrelenting wind, as Master Song gave an exhaustive account of the battle he fought, and won, on a distant desert steppe, where it was so cold that a man’s eyebrows froze clean off of his face, and the wind blew so ferociously that it flayed a man redder than a chile. These men were unused to fighting in such harsh conditions. Had they been better trained, they would have been better prepared for the field that winter. Nearly any weakness can be overcome through proper training, he said. 

Seonghwa settled into an icy focus on the targets ahead of them. He’d easily surpassed the Prince in shooting, the frigid weather narrowing his vision to subtle deviations in a wide blanket of snow. Master Song had come all the way to the palace to train him, so he would not allow the Queen, or anyone, to claim he failed to make use of the lessons. A Royal Guardian must continually learn. Seonghwa was far younger than the Queen’s guard had been when he ascended to guardianship. Though his knowledge of tactics, strategy, weapons, medicine, was strong, he lacked experience. And many older guards would not let him forget it.

When the session, mercifully, ended, the Prince hurried into the palace. When Seonghwa caught up to him, he was huddled next to a stone sculpture of a temple with a squat candle burning in the centre. His head was bowed, but Seonghwa saw tears brimming in his lashes. Then he saw the Prince’s hands, as red as his royal overcoat, trembling before the tiny flame. 

“My Prince, what happened?” Seonghwa asked softly, as he knelt by the Prince’s side. He removed his gloves and ran a soothing hand over the Prince’s thigh, unconcerned about whether the guards posted in the hall might see. Prince Hongjoong was hurting and he would carry him all the way to the infirmary, if necessary. 

“I can’t feel my hands,” the Prince whispered, his breath rising and falling at a rapid pace.

Seonghwa scanned his brain for notes from his lessons on field medicine, which was required study for all members of the Royal Guard. Was it frostnip? A stinging, yet superficial cold weather injury that would heal with a warm water bath. Or was it frostbite? A more serious form of injury that could lead to permanent damage? Either way, he had to act quickly. His Prince needed care. The royal bath was closer than the infirmary. There, he could warm Prince Hongjoong’s hands in a basin of tepid water. 

“Come, let’s get you warmed up in the royal bath,” Seonghwa said, giving his thigh a gentle squeeze. 

The Prince rose, hands held shakily in front of him, traces of tears clinging to his cheeks.

It took every last shred of Seonghwa’s willpower not to sweep his Prince into his arms and kiss away his tears. Prince Hongjoong had awakened something in him, long ago, and that desire to protect and cherish was growing stronger with every morning that he opened his eyes and looked upon his Prince’s face. But he’d trained long enough and lived in the palace long enough to become adept at concealing his true feelings. A man, a soldier, a guardian should reveal nothing. That was the order of the day.

When they arrived at the royal bath, attendants gathered in a flurry around the Prince. Seonghwa dismissed them, invoking his authority as Royal Guardian, to provide Prince Hongjoong with a moment’s peace. He removed the Prince’s hat and helped him out of his overcoat, carefully avoiding his inflamed hands. Then he prepared a basin, mixing equal parts hot and cold water. He guided the Prince to sit on a wooden bench, folded his sleeves back, and set the basin beside him, so that the Prince could relieve his pain in healing water. 

Seonghwa removed his own hat and overcoat, slightly flushed in the heat of the bath, and sat behind the Prince, rubbing his back in gentle circles. They sat in silence for a long while, long enough for Seonghwa to chastise himself for not taking better care of Prince Hongjoong. How hadn’t he noticed the Prince wasn’t wearing gloves? How didn’t he see the Prince’s hands turning as scarlet as bowl of spicy seafood soup? He’d become focused on being the perfect Royal Guardian, someone who wasn’t permanently distracted by the soft pout of the Prince’s lips when he was focusing on a target. 

The Prince sighed with relief as his hands began to fade to his natural colouring.

“I should have looked out for you better, my Prince. My first priority isn’t my own training, but your well being. I’m sorry,” Seonghwa said, pressing a lingering kiss to the nape of Prince Hongjoong’s neck. 

The Prince lolled his head back to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder. “I’m not a child. I shouldn’t have forgotten my gloves. Would a real king have made such a simple mistake?”

Seonghwa circled his arms around the Prince’s waist. His mind bristled with what he wanted to say. Yet he couldn’t not deceive the Prince, nor cater to his image. “You are the real and rightful king. The regency was put into place to guide you until you came of age to lead this country. You don’t need to be the greatest warrior on the battlefield. The people love you and follow you because they believe in your heart.”

Prince Hongjoong sighed. “The people must see me as a boy hiding behind his mother’s skirts. She won’t allow me to be the king until I’m married. And I never wanted to get married, so I really am hiding from my responsibilities, my throne.” 

“You’ve been a prince since you were born and a king since you were ten years old. When was there any time to just be you?”

“Those days we spent together outside the palace. That was when I felt most like myself,” he confessed. “If I were a lesser prince or a noble of some sort, I could live outside the palace and while my mother still might attempt to arrange a marriage for me, I could avoid it. But a king must produce heirs, _legitimate heirs_. My brother would have done that well. He was already interested in girls.” Prince Hongjoong removed his hands from the water and dried them on the scrap of woven cotton beside him. “I’m the second son. I should have been out in the world, hunting tigers and writing songs about it, living in my own house far from the palace, having romances…”

“With who?” Seonghwa interrupted. 

Prince Hongjoong smiled. “With you.”

Seonghwa returned his smile, pleased at the thought of being included in Prince Hongjoong’s dream life outside the palace. Not just as his Royal Guardian, but as his beloved companion. For years he was content to be close to the Prince, restraining himself from wandering too far into his own fantasy. But now that it had come to life, he wanted to live it to the fullest. 

They didn’t have much time left. The Queen was making plans for the bridal court to arrive at the first sign of spring. Six women would interview, but the Queen had already selected her top three. One of them would be married to King Hongjoong by summer. 

And Seonghwa would become a concubine.

  
********

Prince Hongjoong had just enough time to change his outfit, after their detour in the royal baths turned steamy, before he had to attend his afternoon meeting. As they walked to the chamber, the Prince quietly whined about how much he dreaded the lengthy session with the ministers and his mother. The main topic was his upcoming wedding. 

Seonghwa disliked the meeting as well. It pained him to stand by and listen to the Queen extol the virtues of the women she saw as best suited for her son, to listen the details of how the Prince would soon be married off to someone else. For a moment, he allowed his mind to wander, from the Queen’s extensive list of wifely virtues, to the contours of Prince Hongjoong’s face. Though he stood alert, his gaze softened as he admired the Prince’s big inquisitive eyes, the cutest nose he’d ever seen, and a mouth that gave him an unmeasurable amount of pleasure. Prince Hongjoong had promised to be his and his alone. It wasn’t exactly a lie, but it couldn’t possibly remain true. By summer, he would have a wife. 

“Preparations are underway for the entire group, they will arrive for a week of interviews. Among them, are several daughters of aristocratic families who may be selected to become court ladies. Of course, it has been predetermined that the ladies selected for the bridal court will be Miss Min, Miss Shin, and Miss Hwang. These promising young ladies will be invited to stay for another week as part of the bridal court. I’ve scheduled you an appointment with Mystic Cha, who will discuss your charts and reveal your fortunes,” the Queen paused. “Hongjoong are you listening?”

“Of course, you were saying something about misfortune.” Prince Hongjoong stifled a yawn.

The Queen narrowed her eyes and smiled sharply at her son. “You’ll want to pay close attention to this next part. Due to the supreme importance of this match, every detail must be fortuitous. Prospecting, negotiations, ceremony, honeymoon. That is why the bridal court will arrive on the first of March.” 

“March? Wouldn’t it be more prudent to wait for the snows to melt in spring, as planned?” Prince Hongjoong asked, barely concealing the anger simmering in his eyes. 

“With recent events, we cannot lose any more time. The throne must have an heir,” Queen Hyori replied. 

“That’s less than a month from now! What about festivities for the new year?” Prince Hongjoong exclaimed. 

“The entire palace is hard at work preparing for both.” 

“Does that even make sense when we’re in the midst of what is predicted to be a long winter? Harvests were low. In the south, people barely have enough rice to eat. And, here, we’re preparing for an entire month of festivities?”

“The people will be thrilled to celebrate your wedding. Even more thrilled to celebrate the arrival of an heir, so it would be best if your bride were pregnant before summer. After she bears a son, of course, you may bestow the King’s blessing on any of the court ladies promoted to royal concubinage to ensure more heirs. Prosperity to Joseon will follow.”

“Superstition,” Prince Hongjoong scowled. 

The Queen’s shifted her gaze to Seonghwa. 

He averted his eyes to the floor, bowing his head to avoid becoming her next target.

She turned back to her son. “Don’t make the same mistake your father did.”

They said the King’s love for his wife’s beauty closed his eyes to other women. Therefore he produced no other children outside of his marriage. The Queen had brought two sons into the world. Only one of them remained.

“He was a benevolent man. I aim to become as wise and compassionate as he was,” Prince Hongjoong said. "It is his example I admire, not yours."

"Hongjoong!" Queen Hyori shouted, as the Prince marched out of the room.


	17. Chapter 17

  
Throughout the bustling corridors of the main palace, rumours were swirling in new directions. Preparations for the bridal court had begun. Palace staff murmured about whether the women would be pretty or smart or kind. Everyone wondered which of the young noblewomen would become their next Queen. The Prince’s wedding was overdue. He should have married young, made babies right away, securing the family line to the throne. 

Seonghwa was already tired of hearing about it. He needed a thousand more nights by the Prince’s side before he could even think of losing him to someone else. It mattered little that the Prince’s marriage was not for love. Nor did he take consolation in the Prince’s promise that nothing would change between them. His Hongjoong would be someone else’s husband. She would sit by his side at meals and events. She would share his bed, as many times as it took to make enough babies to satisfy the Royal Court. After all, Joseon’s blessings were tied to the number and health of the King’s children. That is what the commoners were told. 

Prince Hongjoong was kept busy with matters of his marriage. It left him in a sullen mood and he took to isolating himself in the garden house every night. He did not call for Seonghwa and Seonghwa did not go to see him. He wished the Prince would return to his chambers or ask him to the garden house. Nights were so cold without the Prince’s warmth beside him. 

There had been several visitors to Seonghwa’s chambers; courtesans hoping to tempt him with liquor and skin, brazen staffwomen bearing gifts, small parcels of sweets, baskets of fruit, tea leaves, an embroidered scarf and even a silk handkerchief. The story head courtesan Jiyong had circulated was working. Poor lovelorn Seonghwa, a handsome peasant from the far south, who had given up on marriage with a girl back home, in order to protect Joseon. 

The tale fluttered through the palace like butterflies migrating for the season, delighting the hearts of palace women who discussed the bittersweet story over pots of tea and plates of honeyed rice cakes. Women of all ages giggled when he passed, some of the bolder ones teasing him about how he might make a good husband for their sister or daughter. He accepted the attention politely, returning compliments and smiling at people whose names he did not know. The palace was swept up in a flurry of wintry romance, just as a layer of ice began to form between him and Prince Hongjoong. 

During his shifts, they trained and he accompanied the Prince to his appointments. He waited while preparations were made and the three noblewomen were discussed like livestock. He was no physician so it was a mystery how the palace midwife could tell which of the women would be able to bear more children. In other meetings they speculated about the women’s fortunes. Who would bring wealth? Who would bring misfortune? 

Each time, Seonghwa felt his chest grow tight. A dull, sinking feeling spreading from his heart down to his stomach. He knew that Kings had a wife and often several concubines. As King, Hongjoong could have as many lovers as he wanted. Seonghwa would have to share him. 

Maybe Prince Hongjoong was already losing interest. Is that why he stayed alone in the garden house? Was he even alone? What if he was practicing with women? No. Seonghwa read the reports from Yunho and Mingi. The Prince did not have any visitors. Unless…no, it was better not to think such thoughts. The vision of either guard in the Prince’s bed would surely make him ill. There had to be another explanation. 

Perhaps it was him. What if he’d made a fool of himself? He didn’t think he’d embarrassed the Prince by telling him that he had the longest, most beautiful eyelashes he’d ever seen. They’d been in bed, on a cold, rainy afternoon, and he’d had the pleasure of watching the Prince drift off to sleep, only to wake up shortly thereafter. Seonghwa loved seeing the soft affection in the Prince’s eyes and the shy, almost pained smile that appeared when he said something stupidly sweet. That was more than a week ago and the Prince had barely touched him since.

They still embraced, but the moments were fleeting, a quick caress as they walked from the archery pavilion back to the armoury after training. They used to take long detours through the south garden, just so they could have more time hold hands and to kiss. What had gone wrong between them? What could Seonghwa do to make him happy again?

********

When the last meeting of the day ended, Prince Hongjoong looked relieved. He was clearly tired and in a hurry to get to the garden house. Seonghwa’s watch was over, but it was dark and snowing and he didn’t want the Prince walking alone. So he followed him into the cold, evening air, along the lantern lit path that led away from the main palace. The Prince walked quickly, his footsteps on snow the only sound to break the silence. Seonghwa walked in rhythm with him, easily matching his stride. He placed a hand at the Prince’s elbow, to steady him in case they came across an icy patch.

The sky was dark, thick with low hanging clouds the colour of smoke. The moon was a crescent sliver behind the clouds, casting a weak, eerie light upon the courtyard. They crossed over to the path that wound around a thicket of skeletal trees, down a short slope, and around a pond to where the garden house stood. Seonghwa climbed the short yet steep staircase alongside the Prince and stopped at the door, taking his hand into his own. 

“My Prince,” he murmured, searching Prince Hongjoong’s eyes for the answer to a question he hadn’t yet asked. 

The Prince’s gaze was strong. He could feel it even in the darkness. This was the Prince who confidently walked the royal halls, a stark contrast with the gentle man who melted in his arms.

Seonghwa tilted his head, hoping to see his version of Hongjoong behind the self-protective stare. “Don’t you miss me?”

Prince Hongjoong scoffed. “Do not ask me such questions.” 

To Seonghwa’s surprise, the Prince rose onto the tips of his feet, wrapped a hand around his neck and kissed him. It was short but powerful and left Seonghwa breathless. Then he opened the door and led them inside. 

They walked past Mingi, who smiled broadly at the sight of their hands intertwined. It was no use hiding from either of the Prince’s guards. Mingi had seen Seonghwa enter the Prince’s room most nights and Yunho had seen him leave in the mornings. Nothing a Prince did was ever truly private. His life wasn’t really his own to live. 

Inside his room, the Prince immediate set to stripping Seonghwa out of his snowy layers. He ran cold hands over Seonghwa’s warm skin, as they fell onto the bed, their bodies tangled beneath heavy blankets. The Prince kissed him hungrily, leaving no space for words. But his touch told Seonghwa what he most needed to know. The Prince still wanted him.

********

After they’d spent their pleasure, Seonghwa finally felt content. It was good to have Prince Hongjoong close to him again. He turned to drape an arm across his chest and press a soft kiss to his temple, but Prince Hongjoong turned away. 

“Where are you going?” Seonghwa asked, as the Prince slid a thickly padded pink silk robe over his shoulders and stood. 

“I have some work to do. So I must ask you to leave me in solitude.” Prince Hongjoong replied, walking over to a cabinet. He opened the doors and began to rustle through papers. 

Seonghwa couldn’t contain his chagrin. “You want me to go? Now? But why? I won’t bother you.” 

“Because you can’t stay here!” Prince Hongjoong snapped. “I need some space.”

“From me?” Seonghwa’s eyes widened. 

Prince Hongjoong’s voice was tired, low. “There are things I have to think about.” 

“What did I do?” Seonghwa knew he was whining now. It wasn’t right for the Prince to push him aside. He wasn’t just some courtesan, here for the Prince’s entertainment. They were together. Weren’t they? 

“Seonghwa, please,” Prince Hongjoong sighed.

Seonghwa rose from the Prince’s bed and dressed rapidly. He kept his face turned away, not wanting the Prince to see the heat flushing his cheeks. His fingers trembled as he buttoned his boots. Then he stood, arching to his full height as he stared across the room at the small, slender man who held so much power over him, as his Prince and as the person who held his tender heart. 

“I’m not one of your courtesans,” he said, voice cracking. “Stop treating me as if I’m some toy you can pick up or put down as you wish. I may be one of your subjects but I don’t like being treated as though I only exist for your pleasure.”

He strode out of the room and out of the garden house, hoping to hear the Prince’s voice asking him to return, to stay with him. Instead he heard doors closing and the wind whistling past his ears. Snow was falling heavily and he’d forgotten his hat. 

_A man who forgot his hat was a man who forgot his honour._

He remembered the line from one of his favourite novels, The Red Seeds. It was the bittersweet story of a farmer in love with a poor but beautiful women, who was arranged to marry a wealthy, older merchant. He had little to offer her, to show his love, so he gave her red beans, a symbol of the future they could grow together. Nothing he offered was ever enough to convince her family that he was worthy of her. Not even when he his fine horsehair hat, to buy her favourite tea. So foolish was he in love, that he neglected to replace the hat with one of simple wool or flannel that would have kept his head warm when winter arrived early. Sadly, the farmer caught ill and died.

Seonghwa was starting to feel as though he and the farmer had something in common.

********

In the morning they trained with Master Song under a bleak grey sky. They were fighting with spears, which quickly became one of Seonghwa’s strengths. It started in childhood, when his older cousin had taken to hiding and tripping him with a bamboo spear. Seonghwa never gave Prince Hongjoong the full force of his skill. The Prince was so outmatched, in every area, that it would have been poor form and could likely discourage him from training. 

On today, however, Seonghwa had no patience for being gentle with the spoiled Prince. This training had been intended for him. By sharing it with Prince Hongjoong, he was not reaping all the benefits of training with a warrior of Master Song’s calibre. 

Seonghwa wielded his spear with confidence, his rapid strikes repeatedly sending the Prince into the hard, icy ground. Though he’d never want to harm the Prince, he derived a certain satisfaction from watching him struggle. The Queen had never allowed the Prince to be trained this way. His lessons had been from low-ranking guards with wooden swords and soft spears that were little more than sticks. He’d never been stoned by children from a neighbouring village, nor had he broken any bones falling out of trees. He was soft, better suited to the library than the battlefield.

Prince Hongjoong never even got a chance to take a strike at Seonghwa because he was forced to defend himself, doing more dodging and ducking than strength-based sparring. He would have failed at that too. Though Seonghwa wasn’t very muscular, he had quite a bit of height on the Prince and the skill to easily overpower him. He chased the Prince with swift, vertical slashes, the tip of his spear marking the snow on either side of the Prince’s boots, before he switched to a horizontal hold and swung at him, causing him to sidestep the spear and slip in the narrow trench Seonghwa had made beside him.

Seonghwa didn’t wait for the Prince to get up, attacking him again, the end of his spear poking holes in the snow as the Prince rolled away. A dense ball of snow exploded in his face and Seonghwa stopped in his tracks, wiping away the remnants of the Prince’s first successful strike against him. 

Prince Hongjoong glared at him, unwilling to concede yet not experienced enough to know that he should have struck again. So Seonghwa knocked the wind out of him with a well timed thrust to the chest, then buckled his knees, and flipped him onto his back. 

Prince Hongjoong lost his grip and the blunt end of his spear jammed into his cheek, just below his eye, leaving a bright streak of blood and a mark that would likely bruise. 

Seonghwa’s heart dropped. “My Prince,” he gasped, falling to his knees. “I’m sorry.” He peered at the gash, which was now dripping blood in a steady stream. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silk handkerchief he’d received from the daughter of the royal seamstress. It was an expensive piece of pure white mulberry, yet he did not hesitate to press it to the Prince’s wound. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so hard on you.” He’d just wanted to challenge the Prince a little, not hurt him. 

Prince Hongjoong scowled, ripping the handkerchief away and tossing it into the snow. Then he scrambled to his feet and ran, slipping and sliding as he went. Seonghwa would have laughed at the Prince’s little tantrum, had he not been worried that the Prince might injure himself further.

He gathered his handkerchief, bowed to Master Song, and jogged after the Prince’s footsteps. The Prince’s trail led along the northwestern edge of the palace, turning south at the cluster of pear trees. As he walked around the bend in the path, he saw the Prince sitting on a stone at the edge of a frozen pond. His face was streaked with windswept tears. 

“Hongjoong,” Seonghwa said, approaching carefully. He wasn’t sure if he should speak informally, but the person he wanted to talk to right now wasn’t the Prince. It was just Hongjoong. 

His eyes flitted up to meet Seonghwa’s, but only for a moment before he covered his face and looked away. 

“Please forgive me. I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard. It wasn’t right. I’m sorry.” 

Prince Hongjoong stood and looked as though he was about to run away again. But instead he turned to Seonghwa with defiance all over his face. “What’s going on? Why are you acting so strangely?” 

“Me?!” Seonghwa spat, genuinely shocked. “It’s you who has been different!” 

“Only because of you!”

“What are you talking about?” 

Prince Hongjoong crossed his arms, eyes fixed on Seonghwa with a piercing glare. “Why didn’t you tell me about her?” He demanded.

“Who? There is no her.” 

“The one who gave you that handkerchief.” 

Seonghwa’s brows knit together in thought. “Hye-something? I can scarcely remember. I don’t know her.”

“Stop lying!”

“Lying? What are you talking about? I haven’t lied to you once!”

“Everybody is talking about it. The girl you left behind to come to the palace. How can you forget the girl you were going to marry?”

 _Oh. Her._

Seonghwa began to laugh. 

“This is funny to you?” Prince Hongjoong pouted.

“No, no,” Seonghwa said, suppressing his laughter. “This is all a mistake. There is no girl. It’s just a rumour.”

“No girl? Then who gave you the handkerchief? And all those sweets and teas and trinkets?”

“No. I mean, my family expected me to marry, of course, but it was never arranged. There’s no girl. As for the gifts, they come from women around the palace who heard the rumour and think I’d be a good match.”

“I don’t like them,” Prince Hongjoong said, coldly.

Seonghwa smiled, slightly pleased that he cared enough to dislike them. “Okay, then I won’t accept any more gifts. Besides, you know I’m not interested in anybody else. Just you.” 

Prince Hongjoong’s eyes narrowed. “Where exactly did this rumour come from?”

“Oh, well, I went to visit Jiyong, the head courtesan, and he suggested starting a rumour that would distract from any talk about the two of us.” He gestured between them. “Pretty clever, right?” 

“Seonghwa,” Prince Hongjoong groaned. “You should know better than to let those sly courtesans start rumours. They live and die for the spectacle. Do you really think that this is okay? That it won’t get completely out of control?”

“What? He said he’d plant some gossip about me having a broken engagement with a girl back home. That was it. I just wanted people to stop talking about us.”

Prince Hongjoong rolled his eyes. “Let them talk. I’m hardly the first Prince to ever take a male lover. King Hejong, King Mokjong, King Gongmin, I could go on.”

“I didn’t want you to get hurt. That’s all I was thinking about,” Seonghwa said, sheepishly. 

“So you went behind my back and made a deal with a thief? Courtesans will swindle the clothes off your back, if you let them. How much did you pay him?”

“He didn’t want money,” Seonghwa answered, now painfully aware that he’d been an utter fool.

“Of course he wanted money. Money or secrets that could lead to more money.” Prince Hongjoong paused. “Oh no. What did you tell him?”

Seonghwa was an utter, ridiculous, shouldn’t be allowed to speak fool. How could he have been so naive? He’d been in the royal palace for years, heard way words were twisted and turned against people. Why did he think he could trust Jiyong?

“Seonghwa, what did you tell him?!” Prince Hongjoong demanded. 

“I told him about meeting you.”

“Perfect,” Prince Hongjoong laughed bitterly. “So in order to protect us…you told him all about us.”

“I’m sorry! Please, understand. I was just trying to take care of you.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?” 

“I don't know. I thought I was protecting you.”

“By keeping secrets from me?! Tell me, how I am supposed to trust you when you keep secrets from me?”

“I didn’t mean to keep anything from you.”

“You should have talked to me first!”

“You’re too busy preparing for the wedding.” Seonghwa regretted the words as soon as he said them. He knew Hongjoong didn’t want this wedding. And he’d tried to keep his own resentment hidden.

“No!” Prince Hongjoong gasped. “Do not turn this on me! The responsibility I have to my family and country is no reason for you to betray my trust.”

“Why is everything a betrayal with you?” Seonghwa snapped.

“Because that’s the way it is! You’ve been here for five years. I’ve been in the royal court my entire life. People have been planning my future and plotting my demise since I was born. I may seem spoiled and childish, but that’s very intentional. It’s what keeps me alive. I understand what my mother is doing. I may not like it, but I understand it. You think our trip to the south was the first attempt on my life? I can’t trust anyone. Not even you.” Prince Hongjoong’s voice broke on the last few words. 

Seonghwa reached for him, but Prince Hongjoong brushed his hand away.

“Hongjoong, please," he pleaded, "I see why it would be very hard for you to trust. From your point of view, it is impossible to tell who is worthy of your trust. But there are some things we must do on faith. Have faith in yourself. You chose me. I have promised to lay down my life for you. Is that still not enough?” 

“I chose you to protect me. I didn’t choose you to take my heart.”

“That’s it? You’re afraid that if you love me, you might get hurt?” Seonghwa raised a hand to brush his cheek, just below the bruise. “Life hurts sometimes. But do you really want to be kept inside, hidden from the world, for the rest of yours? Don't you want to live? Have adventures, make up songs, hunt tigers, with someone who is completely in love with you?”

“What? What did you say?” Prince Hongjoong ran a nervous hand around his neck.

Seonghwa took that hand in his own and squeezed it. He leaned down and kissed him, hoping to soothe Hongjoong’s fear with something they could both feel. “I love you,” he whispered. The words flowed easily. They were many seasons overdue.

“You love me?” Prince Hongjoong asked, astonished.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Seonghwa was certain that it was. The Queen, Jiyong, half of the Royal Guard, it seemed like everybody could see it.

“No, not to me. People may love the Prince. But I didn’t think anyone would ever love me, just me.” Prince Hongjoong pulled back, eyes suspicious, a tiny smile playing at his lips. “How do I believe you? How do I know for sure?” 

Seonghwa lifted Hongjoong's hand and placed it on his chest, covering it with his own. “Because you know my heart. You can feel that it’s true."

Prince Hongjoong smiled, a shy, warm smile. “How long have you known?” 

Seonghwa returned his smile, slightly embarrassed. “I don’t know. A while. Sometimes I’d imagine you weren’t a Prince. And that we could run away together and get some land in the south, where it’s warmer, but still near the mountains where there are waterfalls. We’d build a house with a flower garden and have plenty of food and spend our days and nights happy and free.”

“Mmm, I like that.”

“That’s it? You’re not going to say it?” Seonghwa asked, with mock outrage.

The Prince shook his head, grinning. 

“You are such a brat!” Seonghwa complained, dropping his hand.

“Why did it take you so long to tell me?” Prince Hongjoong nagged.

Seonghwa sighed. “Because I’ve had my own fears. We’re not free. You’re still a Prince. You have obligations. I don’t know how I’m supposed to love you and watch you get married to someone else.” 

“It’s true, I am a Prince and I do have to marry for Joseon. But my heart still belongs to me. At least, it did before you came along.”

“Does that mean…?” Seonghwa smiled again.

Prince Hongjoong blinked at him, eyes wide. “Mean what?” He asked, feigning innocence.

“Ugh, you are the Prince of Brats!"

Prince Hongjoong laughed and tossed his arms around Seonghwa’s neck. “Yup. And you’re stuck with me. Lifetime appointment, remember?”

Seonghwa turned his head away, but Prince Hongjoong left soft kisses along his neck and jaw, until he yielded and opened his mouth to him. Prince Hongjoong smiled into the kiss. “I love you so much. But let's leave the fighting to you and the scheming to me."


	18. Chapter 18

  
Prince Hongjoong was late to the baths, which made him late for breakfast, and therefore late to a meeting with a tailor for a fitting, which put her in a sour mood. His wedding clothes were to be made of the finest scarlet silk with gold embroidery, in the royal family’s tradition. Shifting the entire affair several months earlier had the palace staff in a frenzy. There were so many preparations to be made and only half the time to make them. 

The Prince, however, did not care. He was walking on air, or at least it certainly appeared so, the way his robes seemed to float across the floor. He even looked a little bit taller. Then there was the dreamy, distracted smile on his face. It seemed out of place with the thinly veiled hostility he displayed towards the entire marital process. His eyes lingered on Seonghwa wherever they went, unafraid as he was to avert them. 

The morning’s unexpected confession had left Seonghwa feeling lightheaded and being under the Prince’s bold gaze was making him dizzy. They were such alluring eyes, as dark and sparkly as the night sky when they first kissed. He often thought of that night and how elated he’d been that the Prince had forgiven his impudence, and kissed him back. Seonghwa’s gaze travelled down the delicate slope of his nose, a shape he found quite pleasing. The bruise beneath his eye somehow made him look even more striking, brought out his cheekbones. Seonghwa’s gaze then slipped to his lips, stalling at the sight of the perfect pout. His heart thumped in his chest and he felt a rush of warmth, as his memory flooded with the vision of those soft lips pressed to his. He almost couldn’t believe his great stroke of fortune. The pretty Prince of Joseon was in love with him. 

Seonghwa shifted his stance, collecting himself before he got carried away. He could scarcely wait until they could be alone again. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask, now that he knew his Prince loved him. Sadly, they were still many hours away from seclusion. 

The day’s scheduled was packed with wedding planning. The bridal court had arrived and the group of noblewomen were in the process of being trained and tested, until the final selection was made. Each of the women would get an audience with the Prince. Chaperoned, of course. The Queen and a panel of royal ministers would see to it that the appropriate bride was chosen. Even that was not really up to Prince Hongjoong. Though the decision was publicly his, in private he would be pressed to marry whomever his mother saw fit. 

When Seonghwa’s watch was over, Mingi arrived at the royal tea room to take his place. Prince Hongjoong was meeting with a mystic and the man liked to hear himself speak. Seonghwa could scarcely follow the twists and turns of planets and seasons and symbolic animals that were guiding the Prince, interwoven with recitation of historical records, and the trials and tribulations of previous Kings. Seonghwa left just as he was expounding on whether or not it would be auspicious, should the Prince produce twins.

  
********

Seonghwa walked to the garden house, as that is where the Prince preferred to sleep ever since the palace became overrun with wedding arrangements. He was tired yet giddy, halfway to slumber yet eager for the Prince to accompany him there. He washed up and crawled into bed with a book. It was a love story about a scholar and a singer. Seonghwa wondered if he might try writing. He’d read so many books and had his own ideas for love scenarios. His eyes grew heavy as he read. His imagination began to wander, in and out of the story, from a tavern in the capital city, to a house in the mountains, with a flower garden and a nearby waterfall. 

He awoke to the sensation of cold fingers sliding across his stomach. Instinctually, he reached for the dagger beneath his pillow. But he relaxed when he realised the small hands belonged to Prince Hongjoong.

“Stop it, Brat!” He ordered sharply, his voice low and thick with sleep.

Prince Hongjoong giggled and withdrew his hands. He snuggled into the nook between Seonghwa’s shoulder and chest. Then he placed a rueful kiss on Seonghwa’s cheek.

“Sorry for waking you,” Prince Hongjoong said. 

“No, you’re not,” Seonghwa groaned. “But it’s fine.” He may have sounded surly, but he was happy to see Prince Hongjoong, to have a few moments with him before falling asleep and waking up to another busy day. It often seemed that the only time they had alone together was when they were in bed. 

Prince Hongjoong curled into his own body, arms tucked in like little wings. 

“Are you okay?” Seonghwa asked. 

Prince Hongjoong appeared to be thinking about the question. Then he said, “I am now.” 

“Did something happen?” 

“I’m just so tired of all this wedding stuff. I really never wanted to get married.”

“Never?” Seonghwa looked at him curiously. For most people, marriage was expected. It was a regular part of life that families allied with other families. But for a Prince-who-would-be-King, it was mandatory. 

“What about you?” Prince Hongjoong asked. “Now that I know there isn't some girl waiting for you back home, I suppose I don’t have to worry that you’ll run off. Have you ever imagined getting married?”

“No,” Seonghwa replied. “Yes.” He sighed. “I don’t know. It’s hard to talk about.” 

“Why?”

“It just is.” Seonghwa was feeling stubborn and maybe a little embarrassed. 

“Is it because I’m a Prince? That doesn’t matter. I want you to always speak freely with me.” Prince Hongjoong took Seonghwa’s hand and held it to his chest. “I like hearing about what you’re thinking, how you feel,” he added shyly. 

“In the Royal Guard, we’re taught to contain our emotions. So any wishes I might have had about marriage, well, I locked them away when I took this vow.” 

“But guards are free to marry.”

“Not me,” Seonghwa said, his voice more sullen than he’d intended it to sound. “I’ll never be able to marry the one I love.”

“Oh!” the Prince murmured, dazed at the implication of Seonghwa’s words. His eyes searched Seonghwa’s face. Finally, he said, “but you’d want to get married, if you could, with someone you love.”

A rush of emotion swirled in Seonghwa’s chest and began to spring in his eyes. He couldn’t explain the way he felt about this. He didn’t have the words. How could he admit there was a part of him that wanted a home, a family, a husband? But that years ago, he’d accepted it would never happen. Such was the price of falling in love with a Prince. 

He turned onto his side to face his Prince. “I just want you.” 

Prince Hongjoong smiled. “You have me. I’m yours. It doesn’t matter to me that we won’t be married. You’re my heart. I will try to become a person worthy of your love.” 

“You already are,” Seonghwa said, softly. “I chose you to spend my whole life with. And I’m not asking for you to take a vow for me. I understand you can't do that.” 

There was so much more Seonghwa needed to say. Years of silence had stacked pressure inside him. Try as he might, he would never get the words right. So he settled for what came out when he opened his mouth. 

“Hongjoong, the first time I saw you, when we were ten years old, I didn’t understand the way I felt then, but I wanted to be near you, to protect and care for you. I didn’t see a Prince, I saw a boy, just like me. Back home I trained with the singular focus of becoming a member of the Royal Guard, so that I might see you again. When we finally met, it was the day I passed the exam. You came to congratulate the new members and I discovered the feeling hadn’t changed. I was captivated by someone who barely knew I existed. I told myself that it wasn’t real, that we were near strangers, that you could very well be a royal brat.” 

Seonghwa paused to glare playfully at the Prince. “Which you definitely are.”

Prince Hongjoong giggled, his eyes aglow. 

“Then you selected me as your Royal Guardian and we’ve spent almost every day of the last three years together. In that time, I’ve come to know you, your strong will and your soft heart. And I learned that the flame I carried for you, since I first saw you, was but a match compared to the entire temple of fire that now lives in my heart.” 

“Stop it, you’re going to make me cry,” Prince Hongjoong said, covering his face with his arm.

Seonghwa smiled and pushed his arm away. “You asked me to tell you how I feel.”

“I didn’t expect you to be so good at it! This is my thing. You have swords, I have words.” 

“Okay then, tell me how you fell in love with the way I hold my sword.” 

Prince Hongjoong giggled again and collapsed into his chest. They rested quietly for a few minutes before he spoke. 

“Promise me something.” 

“What is it?” 

Prince Hongjoong lifted his eyes to meet Seonghwa’s. “Don’t ever let the fire go out.” 

Seonghwa tilted the Prince’s head up with the tips of his fingers and gave him a long, gentle kiss. “I promise.”

***************

Seonghwa could not decide which was worse, meeting the women who were vying to marry his Prince, or not meeting them. Either way, he had no choice. As Prince Hongjoong’s Royal Guardian, he would stand watch during each of the meetings and stay silent as they tried to charm him with their beauty and their etiquette. Ultimately, this was official business of the royal family and there was no flirtation, no sense of joy or intimacy whatsoever. 

Marriage rituals were expected to be a stoic affair for any prospective couple. However Prince Hongjoong was charming, the very essence of a well mannered young leader. All of the disdain he held towards marriage had been masked by a sweet, subtle smile and wide, curious eyes. Anyone would have fallen for him, even if he wasn’t a Prince. In fact, Seonghwa might have preferred commoner Hongjoong. At least then he wouldn’t have to watch him prepare to marry someone else. 

The matchmaker had arranged for the three noblewomen of the bridal court to visit the palace. Among the many negotiations, each would have a chance to meet with the Prince, supervised by a family representative as well as the Queen. As the Prince’s eldest living male relative, the Queen’s brother, Haeil, had arrived, from his estate on the East Sea, to help facilitate deliberations. The Prince would make his decision by the new moon and the wedding procession would commence on the next auspicious date, which was much too soon for Seonghwa. 

********

The bridal court commenced with Miss Hwang. She was equal in stature to the Prince and possessed the clever face of a fox. She was pretty and spoke well and clearly ambitious. Her attention focused more on the Queen than on the Prince, though she did strategically bat her sharp eyes at him. She was well versed in the three obediences and four virtues, having even studied under a Chinese tutor with direct lineage to Confucius himself. At just 19, she was in excellent childbearing condition and ready to give the Prince a battalion of sons.

In conversation, she repeatedly noted her family’s vast earnings and strong private military. She had already learned much from her father, who was present as her family representative. Their wide and well-defended territory in the north was ideal for expanding Joseon’s political influence beyond the peninsula, her father emphasised. Though their genealogy was hardly aristocratic, their trade routes were secure and their chests deep. The combination of youth and wealth surely put her firmly in the Queen’s favour. 

According to Miss Hwang, she had an eye for detail, making her skilled in overseeing large scale affairs. She could detect the finest grades of silk, knew how to manage finances, and had been supervising staff since she was 11. It was a pity her knowledge did not extend to match the Prince’s interests in music and literature. Of course, that wasn’t a requirement for the job. 

It would have, however, endeared Prince Hongjoong towards her. While he was fully aware of the qualities that interested his mother, such as wealth and fecundity, he also knew that a princess or a queen could be a point of strife and that a strong bond between the royal couple was essential to a long-lasting reign. His own parents had been so well matched that they remained unified, even after his father’s death. Queen Hyori remained loyal in heart to her husband. Prince Hongjoong saw it, though she rarely spoke of such things. 

Seonghwa was the one who’d spent countless hours playing music with the Prince and having discussions on literature and art. He knew that the Prince longed to see a real tiger and secretly kept a cat in the garden house. He even knew many of the royal rules and customs, having stood by the Prince’s side through so many of them. Alas, he was a commoner and, more importantly, he couldn’t give the Prince children. So he would remain in whispers and shadows, in moonlight trysts, for as long as the Prince would have him. 

********

Miss Min was a rare beauty. She was smaller than the Prince with soft yet refined features. Her skin glowed as though she were bathed in candlelight. Such beauty and noble status were surely a sign of supreme good fortune. It was a combination especially well suited to the future King of Joseon, as everybody knew. As a youth, she was often told that she would likely marry a Prince someday. So she’d been waiting for the younger Prince. 

She babbled like a spring stream, almost certainly an attempt to appear youthful. At her age, she would have been better suited to the older of the two Princes. To be unmarried at 26 was particularly unusual for a beautiful noblewoman. She must have turned down many suitors, in the hope of becoming the next Queen. Perhaps she would have succeeded, had Prince Hongin lived. 

However, the current heir was not swayed by beauty alone, which happened to be the only quality upon which Miss Min relied. Her knowledge of literature was sparse and though she had been trained in music since childhood, she expressed no enthusiasm for it, other than offering to play a flute melody of the Prince’s liking. She prattled on about her love of children and how she hoped to have many strong sons. 

She was accompanied by her mother as family representative, who assured the Prince that many healthy sons had been born to their family. The Queen seemed pleased by this. Having bore two sons herself, she would hold any newcomer to the royal family under the same standards. After all, it was a royal wife’s responsibility to ensure that their lineage continues to hold the throne. 

Seonghwa wished he could turn his ears off to the conversation. He wasn’t ready to accept that there would be someone else sharing Prince Hongjoong’s bed. He still harboured a bit of ill-will towards the courtesans who’d been there before him. 

********

Miss Shin was a surprising choice for the bridal court, as she brought neither great beauty nor immense wealth. She was short and round, gifted with clear intelligence and an outstanding education. Having descended from a long line of scholars, her family prioritised academics and her father had been a close advisor to the late King. 

She was accompanied by her father, who served as her family representative. Her mother had gone to the ancestors when she was very young, so Miss Shin had been raised almost entirely by her father, grandparents, and a small staff at their southern estate. She had been raised Buddhist and was close with her family. She spoke three languages, collected literature, and had been accepted at Cheomseongdae, the finest observatory in Joseon, to study astronomy. There was not much a woman was permitted to do on her own. Even marriage was on a royal decree that eligible noblewomen submit their qualifications. So her studies were of the utmost importance to her. 

Such qualifications did not suit the royal requirements at all, which meant that it was never in Queen Hyori’s design to match Miss Shin with Prince Hongjoong. Miss Shin knew this, of course, remarking that, with the upcoming wedding, the people were curious to learn more about what sort of man Prince Hongjoong was. Would he choose his bride based on her wealth or beauty? 

“Which do you represent?” Prince Hongjoong asked. 

“Neither,” she said. “I represent truth. I was raised with scholarly aims, not royal ones. I am here out of respect for the role my father had as advisor to yours. There is not much a woman in this world is permitted to do on her own. Studying astronomy at Cheomseongdae was a choice I made.” 

“You sound as though you would rather return there, than live at the palace,” Prince Hongjoong replied. “And since we’re being truthful, so would I. You know, I’ve spent many hours gazing at maps in the palace library and having lessons in the palace observatory, but I’ve never been to Gyeongju. What is it like? “

Before they could discuss any further, the Queen interrupted with a question of her own. She wanted to know how a woman of Miss Shin’s size would prepare for childbearing. After all, the health of the mother directly relates to the health of the child. 

Miss Shin answered calmly, undoubtedly accustomed to enduring such remarks over the course of the matchmaking process. She said that if she were to have a child, she would ensure that it would be born and raised with the utmost love and care. That is how her family raised her and is what every child deserves, royal or otherwise. 

The Queen fixed a cold stare on Miss Shin, who respectfully lowered her eyes and waited. After a long moment, the Queen’s lips curved into a partial smile. She then thanked Mister Shin for his loyalty and service to her late husband. 

As the meeting came to an end, the Prince piped up once more, “you have a choice here too, you know. If this is not what you want, I will spare you the bitterness of living a life of someone else’s choosing. It’s a flavour I know all too well.”

“Before we met, I expected to return to Cheomseongdae. But now that I know the kind of man you are, I think I would choose you,” Miss Shin replied. “Besides, the palace has a very fine observatory.” 

Prince Hongjoong laughed.

Seonghwa and the Queen stared at them in disbelief. 


	19. Chapter 19

The time had finally arrived. It was too late for Prince Hongjoong to renounce his duty to the country and flee to the mountains, where he would live out the rest of his days in peace with Seonghwa by his side. Tomorrow the Prince would be married and the day after that he would ascend to become the King. All of Joseon would celebrate. All except Seonghwa. He knew his prince would make a wise and clever king. His own role was to keep him safe from harm. As it had been written in the poems he so enjoyed, duty came before love. 

Seonghwa’s heart was heavy. But he refused to show it. He didn’t want to give the Prince any cause to worry. So he cried in silence by the frozen pond, which had yet to warm with the promise of spring. He couldn’t see a reflection of his tears in the layer of rough ice above the water, so he dried them as best he could, with the red silk handkerchief that Prince Hongjoong had given him to replace the one that had kindled a bit of jealous fire not so long ago. 

He laughed, bitterly, and tucked the handkerchief into his pocket. He ached to think of Prince Hongjoong with someone else. Yet he must learn to accept it. She would be there, for court meetings and palace events, all manner of celebrations. She would spend nights in his chambers, give birth to his children, have a seat by his side for the rest of their lives. And Seonghwa would have to witness it all. 

He had already made a lifelong vow to Prince Hongjoong. He hoped to grow very, very old because that would mean he’d kept his vow and kept his Prince, his King, well protected. This gave him solace. Fulfilling his role as Royal Guardian was the highest honour a commoner like him could achieve. Even if he were to lose the Prince’s love, he would still have his respect. 

All guardians to the royal family were due a high degree of honour and respect, even the King and Queen were expected to act courteously. However, if harm were to befall their royal charge, the guardian would be shunned. The late King’s Royal Guardian had been obligated to leave Joseon and was last seen around Haishenwai some eight years ago. Blame for accident that had taken the lives of the King and Crown Prince was placed squarely on his shoulders. Though he’d been widely admired, it was now rare that anyone spoke of him. His name was a stain in the royal records. But from what Seonghwa had heard, he loved the King as a brother. If anything were to happen to Prince Hongjoong, Seonghwa would be destroyed. Surely, Royal Guardian Hyunwoo must have felt the same way. 

Seonghwa took a deep breath and resumed walking to the garden house. The Prince was waiting for him there. His watch had not yet started, so this time would be theirs. It might be the last time they spent together, before the ceremonies and banquets commenced, before Prince Hongjoong got married. 

********

“My love, you’re here!” Prince Hongjoong said, a wide grin on his face as he flung himself into Seonghwa’s arms. 

Seonghwa quieted him with a kiss, winding his arms around his waist and hoping Yunho couldn’t hear the sound of their lips meeting. Both of the Prince’s secondary guards were well aware of their secret love, but it was still supposed to be a secret and, at times, it seemed like Seonghwa was the only one attempting to keep it that way. 

“You’re cold!” Prince Hongjoong pouted, placing his warm hands on Seonghwa’s cheeks. “Come, let’s get you warmed up.” He nipped at the centre of his lower lip and gave Seonghwa an inviting smile. 

His mouth was a like a peach blossom, which would soon be in bloom all around the country. The palace had a small, manicured grove of peach trees, but Seonghwa preferred the wild ones along the river just past the village they’d visited for the Prince’s birthday. Maybe he could take him there, in time to see the petals swirling, vibrant pinks and reds, under the pale blue sky of early spring. It was said that peach blossoms brought luck in love, as a symbol of passion unfurling. 

“Being close to you, I feel warmer already,” Seonghwa murmured. 

“Come even closer,” Prince Hongjoong purred, “I’ll make you…”

“Prince Hongjoong!” Yunho’s voice boomed from the other side of the thin door that separated the entry room from the main room. “An urgent note has arrived for you. It’s from the Queen.”

Prince Hongjoong sighed, his shoulders slumping as he circled his eyes up to the ceiling. 

Seonghwa turned and walked to the door, sliding it open just far enough to see Yunho’s cheery face looking down at him. 

“What are you smiling about?” Seonghwa whispered, but it sounded like a hiss. 

“The whole palace is excited for the wedding.” Suddenly, the joy faded from Yunho’s face. “Except for you, I suppose. Sorry, hyung.” 

“The affairs of the royal family are none of our concern,” Seonghwa said, stiffly. 

Yunho lowered his head and handed over the note. “Understood.” 

Seonghwa took the neatly folded and sealed note as if it were a tax bill and delivered it to the Prince’s waiting hands. 

“What?” Prince Hongjoong whined. “No no no no no.” He sighed deeply. “She has summoned me to a recitation before the banquet dressing.”

“What does that mean?” Seonghwa asked.

“She is making me attend a scholarly reading to remind me of my ethical obligations, lest I be allowed a moment of peace and choose to spend it straying further from virtue.” He crumpled the note in his fist. 

“Does this mean you have to leave?” Seonghwa hoped his disappointment wasn’t too evident. He didn’t want to trouble the Prince, but this time was all they would have together before the wedding. 

“Yes. I’m sorry. You know I’d rather stay here with you.” 

The sincerity in the Prince’s eyes made Seonghwa’s heart skip. “It’s okay,” he said, in his most soothing tone. “I’ll be near you all day, watching over you, keeping you safe. I’m yours for life.”

A bashful smile spread across Prince Hongjoong’s face. Seonghwa would never tire of the way his simple words could make the bold and wilful Prince melt. And because this might be his last chance, before the Prince was swept away by wedding commitments, he took him into his arms. 

Perhaps it was because he’d kept the feeling inside for so long, before ever giving voice to it, but now that he had the words, he used them generously. He pressed their cheeks together and let his soft breath exhale on the Prince’s skin. “I love you so much.” 

The Prince let out a sweet sound that was almost a whine. He buried his face in Seonghwa’s neck. A muffled string of syllables followed. 

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you.” 

“You heard me!” Prince Hongjoong demanded.

“Ah, no, it was unclear. Did you say you’re hungry?”

“Yeah,” Prince Hongjoong giggled. “For you.” He placed a trio of kisses along Seonghwa’s neck. 

“Oh, I see. There wasn’t anything else you wanted to say?” Seonghwa brought two fingers under his chin, tilting his head up so their eyes could meet. Prince Hongjoong squirmed in his arms. The tension was delicious. 

The Prince folded his lips together, flattening his mouth into a line, and shook his head. 

“Fine.” Seonghwa released him. “Go be virtuous. I will just remain here and not think of you at all.”

Prince Hongjoong spun away and went to select a hat from the lacquered wood cabinet on the other side of the room. 

Seonghwa sank to his knees on a wide and comfortable pillow. On the table in front of him, there were several tangerines and a book of love poems. A thin strip of scarlet ribbon peeked out from somewhere in the middle of the book. Curious as to which poem had caught the Prince’s attention, Seonghwa reached for the ribbon. 

“Number fifteen,” Prince Hongjoong said, draping himself across Seonghwa’s back. He kissed his cheek and then whispered in his ear, “it expresses my feelings for you.” 

Prince Hongjoong hurried out of the garden house, leaving Seonghwa with less than an hour to wait before his guard began. They’d planned to spend that time together. The Prince had even prepared fruit and poems, which delighted Seonghwa to no end. Amidst the busy spectacle of the wedding, he’d thought about Seonghwa, made time for them to be together, even selected a poem for him. 

Seonghwa picked up the ribbon’s tail. He opened the book to the saved page. It was number fifteen, a poem elegantly titled _A butterfly loves flowers_.

********

Seonghwa’s guard began with the banquet. This meant hours of standing by a wall, as the wedding guests supped on a vast array of dishes and drank round after round of tea and wine. It was a time for the two families to be together and a time for the Prince and his bride-to-be to show how gracious and well-matched they were. The next event would be a blessing to bring fertility unto the couple, followed by an offering to the ancestors and another tea ceremony. Then Prince Hongjoong would be sequestered for the rest of the night to observe ritual propriety. In the morning, he would be married. 

Though he was everyday assured of Prince Hongjoong’s affections, Seonghwa’s heart still ached when he looked at them. Per his duty he watched the Prince, keenly aware of every movement he made and every eye that shifted in his direction. Sometimes he softened his gaze, letting the images on either side of the Prince soften. It was the most he could do to shut her out of his view. 

The Prince had barely touched his food, which was hardly unusual as he tended to be a light eater. Yet Seonghwa sensed reticence lurking behind his serene eyes. He smiled graciously from time to time and slipped a few clever words into the conversation. He was the very picture of a charming young prince that would please his in-laws and the court alike. He was so handsome and though Seonghwa had never desired to have a seat at the royal table, it should have been him by Prince’s Hongjoong’s side. There was no one at that table who loved and adored him more. 

Seonghwa’s eyes flitted to the left as someone approached. It was Prince Hongjoong’s uncle, the younger brother of the late King. Prince Woosung was a handsome man who had never married. He lived in a sprawling estate overlooking the East Sea, just below Kumgangsan. 

“So you’re my nephew’s guardian,” Prince Woosung remarked. “I see he has as eye for beauty.”

“It is an honour to meet you, Your Excellency.” 

Seonghwa shifted his gaze back to Prince Hongjoong, who was laughing as Miss Shin spoke to him. His reign as king would be made easier with a capable and loyal wife by his side, this Seonghwa knew. However, he planned to keep a guard following her movements. She had yet to earn any trust from him. 

“His taste is exceptional,” Prince Woosung continued, eyes roaming the angles of Seonghwa’s face. “If I’d have chosen a handsome and young guardian, my mother would have had me shipped off to fight waegu pirates. She said the absence of war made men soft. Such is the life of a second son, especially one continually caught with boys from the Royal Guard. And it would seem my nephew can relate.” 

He followed Seonghwa’s line of sight over to Prince Hongjoong. The younger Prince looked up, his eyes flickered past Seonghwa and his uncle, to smile brightly at Miss Shin’s companion, a soft faced eunuch. Seonghwa would have to assign a guard to watch him. Eunuchs could be even worse than courtesans. They tended to acquire all the house or palace’s secrets. 

“What is your name?” Prince Woosung asked, moving closer.

“Park Seonghwa, Your Excellency,” Seonghwa answered. 

“Seonghwa, would you consider yourself especially skilled with a spear? I’ve always had an appreciation for a man who is skilled with his spear.”

Seonghwa looked at the older Prince with wide eyes. As a Royal Guardian, he was under the command of Prince Hongjoong alone. He had no obligation to follow Prince Woosung’s orders or fulfill his requests. But he was not sure how to decline the unspoken invitation without insult. Prince Hongjoong and his gifted tongue would have known just what to say.

“The palace courtesans are finer than any gisaeng in the country. But I’ve always had a fondness for this uniform.” Prince Woosung, brushed his hand along the cuff of Seonghwa’s sleeve and in one quick motion, slipped two fingers inside. “I’m staying in the west hall.”

Prince Woosung continued to walk around the room, stopping to select something from a table of sweets before resuming his place with the wedding party. Perhaps he could send the older Prince a courtesan, dressed in a guard uniform. Though he doubted Yeosang knew the first thing about how to hold a real spear, he would give Prince Woosung whatever it is that he wanted. Seonghwa wanted no one but his Prince. Even though he would have to share him. 

The conversation continued with another round of wine and tea before the guests started to rise and drift out to the adjacent room. Miss Shin and her companion joined the group in the courtyard. Seonghwa was glad to see them go. Prince Hongjoong stayed seated at the table, a plate of untouched dumplings before him. 

He waved Seonghwa over to the table and Seonghwa obeyed, hurrying to kneel beside him. There was so much Seonghwa wanted to say, about how much the poem meant to him, and how he missed him, even though they were in the same room. Instead he silenced his feelings. He was here as Royal Guardian, so his duty had to come before his heart. 

“I’m tired,” Prince Hongjoong said. “I just want to go back to the garden house with you.” 

He smiled, a soft, almost hidden expression. “Yes, my Prince. That would be wonderful.”

“What did my uncle have to say?”

The smile faded from Seonghwa’s face. He was stuck between the truth and a lie and neither would give good results. “We merely became acquainted,” he said, hoping the Prince wouldn’t press for further detail.

Prince Hongjoong looked as though he were about to ask a question. 

Seonghwa gestured to the juicy dumplings on the plate in front of them. “There’s so much food and you’ve barely eaten or touched your tea.”

“Yeah, we’re feasting while people in the south barely have enough to get through this winter.”

“You helped them,” Seonghwa replied. “And you’ll do more once you’re the King.” 

“Eat, if you like,” Prince Hongjoong said. 

Seonghwa glanced around the table. The dumplings looked tasty. He lifted the lid on a stone bowl of soup and found it still steaming, bits of seafood and vegetables floating in the broth. There was rice in another bowl, also untouched. He caught an unfamiliar scent, spices he could not recognise though their aroma was pleasing. 

“Is there something new here?” 

“Ah,” Prince Hongjoong nodded. “It’s a gift from Miss Shin, spiced tea all the way from the Mughal Sultanate.”

Seonghwa spotted the dark amber liquid in a small porcelain cup and frowned. He felt an urge to throw it at the wall. 

“I don’t want it,” Prince Hongjoong said in a hushed tone. “I just want you.”

A hint of a smile tugged at Seonghwa’s lips. “You should eat, my Prince. You need your strength.” 

He picked up the Prince’s chopsticks and used them to snare a dumpling. He hesitated, wanting to bring the plump morsel to the Prince’s full lips. Their eyes locked. The Prince’s lips parted. He raised the dumpling and tucked it into his own mouth. That was as brazen as he could be. 

Prince Hongjoong giggled. 

Savoury juices burst in his mouth as he chewed the meat stuffed dough. It was delicious. In another wave of boldness, he reached for the Prince’s teacup. He took a sip and scowled. It was very bitter. Miss Shin didn’t know the Prince at all. 

********

A dusting of snow swirled in the air. The sky was cloudy, casting a dim, grey blanket over the palace. The sun was faint in the western sky. Prince Hongjoong had said he wanted fresh air, so they were taking a walk around a narrow courtyard decorated with a fountain whose water had frozen over. 

The nights had been so cold lately. But Seonghwa had scarcely noticed because he’d spent them in the Prince’s bed. There was always heat when they were together, heat from their mingled breath, their moving bodies, the beating of their hearts. Seonghwa told himself that he could stand a few cold nights, away from the Prince. After all, they had an entire lifetime to spend together. 

“I wish we could be close to the stars again,” Prince Hongjoong said. “Maybe in spring we can go to the mountains. We could visit a temple or bring supplies to villages. I want to meet more people. A good King should not hide away in the palace. My father didn’t. He took us to the seashore. He liked fishing. He’d always give away our catch to a village elder. I don’t know if they even realised he was the King. We wouldn’t wear fancy silks or anything. I only went a couple times but I loved seeing the land and the people outside the palace. Do…” Prince Hongjoong’s voice halted. “Seo…Seonghwa? Are you okay?”

“Yes, my Prince,” Seonghwa replied, a deep shiver coursing through his body. It must have become colder already. Another shiver followed.

“Let’s go inside.” The Prince sounded worried as he wrapped an arm around Seonghwa’s waist. 

“Okay.” Seonghwa was trembling now. His hands, his body began to shake violently. The hard, snowy ground loomed closer.

“Help!” Prince Hongjoong screamed.

It was the last sound Seonghwa heard before the sky met the ground and everything went flat.


	20. Chapter 20

“His body has lost a lot of fluid, even more after the charcoal emptied his stomach. Give him small sips of water, but take care to see that he’s swallowing correctly. I can’t say if he’ll wake up. But if he does, he will need water and clear broth. I will be back in the morning to check on him.” 

“Thank you Doctor Lee,” Prince Hongjoong said. 

“Hongjoong, please, get some rest. You can’t keep sleeping on the floor,” Queen Hyori said.

“He might wake up. I have to be here,” Prince Hongjoong replied.

“There’s nothing more you can do.”

“I won’t let him wake up alone.”

“What about you? Think of your own health. You haven’t been eating or sleeping.”

“Mother, please, “Prince Hongjoong sighed. “The only person in the world who truly cares about me, has nearly given his life for me. How can I be anywhere but by his side? Everything I am is for Joseon, for you, for our royal lineage. Just let me have this one thing, without question. He is all I want, all I have ever asked for.”

“You’re my son, I have loved you before you took your first breath in this world. That is why I want you to rest,” Queen Hyori said.

“You loved Hongin. Maybe you wish he was here instead of me,” Prince Hongjoong snapped. The first son. He was everything you wanted. He would have married that beautiful girl and given Joseon a fairytale romance with eight perfect children.”

“Hongjoong! How can you say that?” Queen Hyori gasped. 

“I don’t know how I survived. The boat sank with all three of us on it, but I was the only one who made it back to shore. I don’t know how, or why, but I did. I’m still here.”

“And I am so thankful you are. You are my treasure. I only want to take care of you, keep you safe from harm.” 

“Then you and Seonghwa have something in common.” 

The Queen’s gaze softened. “I suppose we do.” 

There was a long moment of silence before she spoke again. “I sincerely hope that he pulls through. And that your love never suffers the same fate as mine did, with your father. Some called him a fool, marrying for love instead of political gain. I always carried myself with great restraint in public because I never wanted to be the reason for anyone to perceive him as having a weakness. But I loved him so much. We were both fools. I just wanted to protect you from any more pain.” 

“I’m thankful for all you’ve done to keep me safe and well,” Prince Hongjoong said. “So I know you understand why I can’t leave him. He is going to wake up and I am going to be here to hold his hand and tell him that I love him.” Prince Hongjoong’s voice cracked. “I didn’t tell him last time. I should have told him!”

“Tell him now,” Queen Hyori soothed, “maybe he can hear you. And make sure you use an extra blanket if you’re going to fall asleep on the floor again.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I’ll check on you both in the morning. Rest well.” 

“Mom…”

“Yes?” 

“I love you too.”

“It makes me so happy to hear you say that. Let’s both say it more from now on.”

********

“Come back to me.” Prince Hongjoong’s voice sounded like a faint whisper. “Please,” he begged. “It can’t end like this. We’re supposed to grow old together. Our story isn’t over. I won’t let you go.”

********

Seonghwa coughed, a dry wracking sound that shook his body and echoed through the darkness. Only it was no longer dark. A soft glow beckoned him. He blinked, twice, and shapes began coming into focus. A blanket covered him, stretching out like a golden field of canola flowers. There was another blanket close by, this one a brilliant blue, as the butterflies that gathered near his village each year, around his birthday. 

Was he dreaming?

He lifted his head and the whole room moved with him. A dull ache reverberated all the way down to his feet. He licked his lips and tasted sand. In dreams, pain could seem real. 

If he were awake inside a dream, he could wish for water and it would appear. So he wished as hard as he could, but nothing happened. All was quiet. Except for the faint sound of sleep. It was comforting, familiar even. 

The rhythm of breath, he knew it inside his own body. Slowly, he reached for the blue blanket. His fingers slipped on the satin fabric, but he managed to tug the corner back enough to reveal a serene and beautiful face. His heart thumped.

“Hongjoong,” he called, longing rising in his chest as he spoke his Prince’s name. “Hongjoong,” he repeated, because the syllables felt good on his tongue and because his voice had barely come out a whisper.

The Prince stirred, a small hand reaching out to pull the blanket up to his shoulders. 

“Hongjoong,” he tried again, stronger and louder this time. 

The Prince’s eyes flew open and he rolled onto his side, crawling to close the short distance between their mats, still wrapped in his blue satin blanket.

“Seonghwa, how do you feel?” Prince Hongjoong asked, head cocked to the side, peering at him with precious concern. 

“Like I’m either dead or dreaming,” Seonghwa answered.

“You’re neither,” Prince Hongjoong smiled. His were wide and full of tears. “I knew you’d come back.” 

Gingerly, Seonghwa sat up. He peered at the Prince with eyes that still felt heavy from sleep. Prince Hongjoong’s face looked so small and his brow was furrowed with worry. Seonghwa reached over to wipe away the tear that trickled down his cheek. 

“Are you alright?” Seonghwa asked.

“I am now,” the Prince replied. “You must be thirsty, here,” he turned to reach for a porcelain jug perched on a small table, next to a bundle of herbs and a silver and enamel box engraved with unfamiliar characters.

Seonghwa drank deeply, nearly draining the jug. “Thank you,” he panted.

“There is medicine too, for the pain, if you want. I can prepare it for you.” Prince Hongjoong returned the jug to the table and picked up the engraved box. He opened the lid to reveal a long slender cylinder affixed with a circular bowl. A small silver container sat next to it. 

“I’m feeling better by the minute,” Seonghwa said. The last thing he wanted was something to cloud his head or cause his Prince further worry. “How long was I gone?”

“Two days.” 

“What happened? I remember walking with you in the courtyard and then everything went dark.”

“Doctor Lee thinks you were poisoned. She gave you something to expel it. Since then you’ve slept.”

“I…I missed the wedding?” Seonghwa stuttered, unable to conceal his shock.

“There was no wedding. I’ve been here, with you, the whole time.” 

“No wedding,” Seonghwa repeated. 

“No, Miss Shin and her family are being held in the east house. The tea she brought, it was served to me, but you were the only one to drink it.” Prince Hongjoong’s lower lip quivered. “You saved my life.”

Seonghwa remembered the bitter taste of the tea and shuddered. It was by accident that he drank it, instead of the Prince. “I don’t feel like much of a hero.”

“A hero doesn’t have to slay tigers. You’ve kept me safe, shown me I can always rely on you, and above all you’ve cared for me with your whole heart.”

“I am thankful you’re safe, my Prince.” 

“Don’t call me that,” Prince Hongjoong said, his voice soft and gentle. 

“What?”

“You don’t have to call me Prince when it’s just us. I’d prefer you didn’t. I know you’re still my Guardian and that you have a vow to uphold, but when you collapsed and you went away, a piece of me was gone too. So let’s not be separated by royalty and rank. I love you,” Prince Hongjoong said. “And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, last time, in the garden house.”

“It’s okay,” Seonghwa told him. “I know.”

“Can I…can I hug you?” 

“Of course,” Seonghwa managed a painful smile. 

The Prince brought his head to rest on Seonghwa’s shoulder and wrapped his arms around his waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Seonghwa replied, vaguely unsure of where he’d been. There were so many questions beginning to brew in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t yet put words to any of them. One thing he knew for sure, was that Hongjoong was the source of so much light in his life. 

“And I’m going to figure out who did this to you and have their skull ground into chalk,” Prince Hongjoong added.

********

After some soup, a bit of rice, and more rest, Seonghwa’s head began to clear. He recalled the conversations he overheard, between the Prince, the Queen, and the doctor. He remembered Hongjoong’s whispered prayers. It had all seemed like a dream because he couldn’t wake up. 

But it wasn’t a dream. 

He’d been poisoned. Someone had tried to end the Prince, right in front of him and he hadn’t the faintest clue about who or how. It was his duty to know such things. Had he been so consumed with Hongjoong’s affection that he missed a plot being hatched? Had he let him down, only to save his life by accident?

As Seonghwa recovered, he listened to the Prince’s theories. Miss Shin’s companion, the eunuch, had been imprisoned. It was he who had prepared the tea and served the Prince. But what could she have to gain by killing the Prince before the wedding? It was too obvious an answer and utterly lacking in reason. 

Guests had arrived from across Joseon for the wedding. There could be enemies hidden amongst them. Miss Hwang’s family could be the culprit. They were ambitious and likely feeling scorned. But as a wealthy and prideful family, with large supplies of soldiers in their region, stealth was not their speciality. Or it could be Miss Min’s family. It had been widely expected that she would marry Crown Prince Hongin. Failing that, she would marry Prince Hongjoong. So eager were they to reach for the crown. But as a virtuous family of respected scholars, they were unlikely to attempt to sieze the throne. 

As the current Crown Prince, Hongjoong had many enemies. It was Seonghwa’s responsibility to know who they were and how they moved. Yet this poisoning had come unexpectedly. None of his research on Miss Shin and her relations suggested that they would do something like this, much less so boldly. 

He had to speak with her. Surely the Royal Guard had already questioned her. Still, he had to see for himself, face to face, if this woman who would be Queen, had tried to take his Hongjoong’s life.

********

Prince Hongjoong had no intention of allowing Seonghwa out of seclusion, at least not until an adequate amount of time had passed to regain his strength. Yet now that Seonghwa was awake, he could no longer avoid his own duties. The Prince made sure Seonghwa was left well guarded. He put Yunho in charge of two other guards and instructed him to turn away all visitors. 

Seonghwa felt a bit embarrassed that Prince Hongjoong was closely protecting him. That was supposed to be his role, guarding the Prince from any and all dangers. Though he’d survived the poisoning, he was still too weak to fulfil his vow. His body felt like a wisp of frayed rope. He was confined to his bedchamber. But his heart beat strong and sound for retribution. 

By early evening the Prince was still away. Seonghwa had eaten well, after Yunho instructed one of the guards to personally taste his meals. He tried to distract himself with reading, but it did little to take his mind away from the matter at hand. He raked the facts over in his mind, called for books from the library, in case he’d missed a connection. 

He was pacing his room, rehearsing what he would say to Miss Shin, when the sound of Yunho’s raised voice caught his attention. 

“For the last time, no visitors! Leave now or I will strike you down myself!” Yunho boomed. 

The response was too deep, too quiet to reach Seonghwa’s ears. He slipped the dagger he kept under his pillow into a hidden fold of his jacket and stepped into his boots before creeping towards the door. Curious, he slid the door open and saw Yunho towering over a frightened looking Yeosang. What could he possibly want? And why was he trembling?

“Let him in,” Seonghwa said. 

Yunho turned to give him a solemn stare. “I cannot. No visitors. I am under strict orders from Prince Hongjoong himself.” 

“Fine. Then we will speak here,” Seonghwa insisted, stepping into the front chamber. “Yeosang, what is it?” 

Yeosang glanced nervously around the hallway. Two guards stood on either side of him, while Yunho stood in front of him, barring his entrance to the front chamber. “May I step inside please? It’s very important. I have sensitive information.” 

“Yes,” Seonghwa said, while Yunho spoke a resounding no. 

Yeosang’s eyes shifted between them, uncertain of which order to follow. Seonghwa was the higher ranking guard, but Yunho’s order came from the Prince. “Please,” Yeosang repeated.

“Yunho, let him in. There are two guards outside the door and I am confident that you are keeping me well guarded. Let’s give him one minute to speak his piece.” 

“But Prince Hongjoong said…” Yunho began.

“If Prince Hongjoong finds fault with your actions, I will hold myself personally accountable. Now, let him in,” Seonghwa interrupted. 

After a moment, Yunho stepped aside, allowing Yeosang to enter the chamber. He slid the door shut behind him and began to smooth his hands along the pale green fabric of Yeosang’s coat. When he was satisfied that Yeosang possessed no weapon, he arched to his full height and snarled, “speak fast.” 

Yeosang bowed his head. “There are three things. First, I would like to say that I am thankful you are well. I have been praying for your health and will continue to wish for your full recovery.” 

“Thank you,” Seonghwa said, cautiously. He knew better than to think a courtesan ever did something for any reason other than their own self interest. 

“I also came to apologise. My words and actions towards you have not been kind. I have behaved cruelly and I am deeply sorry.” 

Seonghwa tilted his chin up and looked down at Yeosang through narrowed eyes. Though the apology sounded sincere, courtesans were known to be very fine actors. “Why?”

Yeosang looked up, casting a soft expression in Seonghwa’s direction. “Why? My motivation was simple. Jealousy. I wanted to be the Prince’s favourite. But I knew from the way he looked at you, that he would never love me.”

“Are you in love with him?” Seonghwa asked. 

“How could I not be?” Yeosang replied. “Serving our kind and handsome Prince is the best thing that ever happened to me. Becoming a courtesan wasn’t my choice. But this face is all I have. If I don’t keep my family fed, they will starve. My parents are older, too frail to keep working in the fields. And most wealthy men are neither kind, nor handsome.” Yeosang lowered his head again. “Prince Hongjoong treated me as if I were precious.”

Though courtesans often lied, Seonghwa knew that last part was true. The Prince thought deeply, cared deeply about others. Just one look from him could be spellbinding. 

Seonghwa’s eyes shifted focus to catch a trace of a smile crossing Yunho’s lips. Was he in love with the Prince too? Was everybody either in love with him or trying to kill him? 

“And the third thing?” Seonghwa prompted.

“Ah, yes, let me get to the most important thing. This part will be useful to you.” Yeosang cleared his throat. “Last night, I received a confession. Another courtesan came to me with information that may pertain to what transpired at the banquet.”

“Spit it out,” Yunho growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Seonghwa held his palm up, silencing Yunho. “Tell me everything. And don’t leave out a single detail.”

Yeosang began to reveal the secret that had been shared with him, in the darkest hour of the night. A courtesan had come to see him, damp with fear, and confessed that he had become an unwitting witness to the poisoning. He knew how they did it and, most importantly, who did it. Though his life had been threatened, a warning should he speak about it, the silence was too much to bear. He told Yeosang everything and the only thing Yeosang could think to do, was share the information with Seonghwa. 

Yeosang knew that Seonghwa would do right with the information. Getting an audience with the Queen or the Prince would take too long. Members of the Royal Council weren’t likely to take the word of a courtesan seriously and some of them were not to be trusted anyway. But Seonghwa was loyal to the Prince. He loved the Prince. He was the most honourable amongst them all. 

Seonghwa made him repeat the story three times, to make sure there were no inconsistencies. If Yeosang was lying, the consequences would be devastating. If Yeosang was telling the truth, the consequences would be devastating. And it was up to Seonghwa to determine the correct course of action. 

But retribution burned white-hot in his mind, pumping through his body like it was in his blood. The searing rage inside him lashed out in quick slash commands, cutting down anyone who stood in his way, even Yunho, who toppled over a table from several strikes to his leg. The guards at the door each took an elbow to the head when they attempted to restrain Seonghwa’s arms. 

As he marched down the hall, he heard Yunho order the two guards to follow his commands. He reached the end of the corridor, but instead of turning right to continue through a series of linked corridors, he threw open the doors to the courtyard and walked out onto the snow, making a direct line for his destination. 

The west hall.


End file.
